ILIBMRY OF CONGRESS, i 

I ^/^c//: .,S..i.z54 II 

if ^ ^ 

I UNITED STATES OP AMERICA, f 



Digitized by tine Internet Arciiive 
in 2011 witii funding from 
Tine Library of Congress 



littp://www.arcliive.org/details/besidewesternseaOOskid 



BESIDE 



THE 



WESTERN SEA: 



A COLLECTION OF POEMS. 



BY 



HARRIET M. SKIDMORE (-MARIE"). 

WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY THE MOST REV. J. S. ALEMANY, D. D. , 
ARCHBISHOP OF SAN FRANCISCO. 



SECOND EDITION. 



NEW YORK: 

P. 0'SHE.\, PUBLISHER, 

37 Barclay Street, and 42 Park Place. 

1877- 



^BM- 



7 S a «;^1 



^ 1^3 ^ 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in tlie year 1877, by 

P. O'SHEA, 
In the office of tlie Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



Stereotyped and Printed at the 
Boys' Catholic Protectory, 
West Chester, N. Y. 



DEDICATION. 



To the greater glory of God, and the greater honor of His Immacu- 
late Mother, Ills angels, and sauits, those faithful ones whom the 
King Himself "delighteth to honor," this humble work is most ear- 
nestly and reverently dedicated. 

" Marie." 

San Francisco, California. 



PREFACE. 



I FIND this preface necessary, as an apology for the unparall- 
eled presumption of which I have been guilty, in collecting 
and publishing my poor rhymes and metrical attempts. And, 
in order to excuse myself, I am even fain to cast a portion of 
the blame on the too partial kindness of those revered friends 
who have suggested and encouraged the publication above 
referred to. 

Most of the poems contained in this volume have been 
contributions to Catholic newspapers and periodicals ; and that 
they have condescended to admit such productions into their 
columns, is another reason of my audacious attempt at book- 
making. 

The only merit these humble rhymes possess is, the inten- 
tion with which they were written, and which is stated in the 
dedication, viz.: "The greater glory of God, and the greater 
honor of His Immaculate Mother, His angels and saints." 
And as the simple weed blooming by the wayside, and the 
sparrow uttering its feeble chirp in the meadows, thus pre- 
sent their acceptable tributes of praise to '"the dear All- 
Father," so may my humble verses be received as a like 
earnest, though infinitely less worthy, offering. 

And if this, my poor mite, given to the cause of truth and 
virtue, find favor in His sight, then shall I even rejoice that 
I have sung my simple songs, and woven my garlands of 
wild verse-flowers, ' ' Beside the Western Sea. " 

" Marie." 

San Fi'ancisci), California, 
Feast of the PiiriJicatio:i, February, 1^77- 



INTRODUCTION. 

Several poetical pieces have appeared for some time past, 
in some public journals, under the signature *' Marie," and 
they seem to have attracted more than ordinary attention. In 
common with others, I thought they were deservedly praised. 
Those which I happened to read, appeared to me to reveal the 
peculiar and, in our days, rare combination of poetical genius 
and Christian spirit. Hence I was glad to learn that the 
distinguished authoress consented to review and enlarge her 
poems, and offer them to the public in a single volume. 

And although not born a poet, nor being very partial to 
poetical compositions, I take pleasure in using my name to 
introduce this volume, ''Beside the Western Sea," for the 
following reasons : First, because the lovers of poetry will, in 
my humble opinion, possess in it a model of rare worth, 
to encourage them and guide their compositions; and, 
secondly, because a good poem, like an exquisite painting, 
when guided by a Christian spirit, is most interesting and 
beneficial to the reader. It presents the subjects in their true 
light, it gives them life and animation, it graces them with 
befitting beauty, engages the attention and admiration of the 
reader, refireshes his mind with vivid impressions of the true, 
and gladdens his heart with noble impulses, and a wish for 
the lovely. 



Vlll INTRODUCTION. 

I frequently deem it a waste of time to read poetical com- 
positions, because they frequently seem to contain but the 
repetition of one idea, without entertaining the imagination 
with any rhetorical flourish ; and so they might be called a sort 
of heav}^, prosy poetry, tiresome without instructing. And the 
task is far more unendurable, when the object is an insidious 
encouragement to passion at the expense of morals. Such 
disguised attacks on truth and virtue should receive the frowns 
of all respectable persons. The case in the volume before 
us seems to be the very opposite ; for, while it presents but 
Christian subjects, refreshing the reader's mind with precious 
Christian recollections, it ornaments them with poetic beauty ; 
it breathes, while instructing, a chaste and pious spirit : it is, I 
believe, a precious offering to virtue and truth. 

qn JOSEPH S. ALEMANY, O. P., 

ArchUshop of San Francisco. 



San Francisco, 
Feast of St. Agatha, 1877 



.\ 



CONTENTS. 



PAGB. 

Dedication -------- iii 

Preface -------- v 

Introduction -------- vii 

Contents -------- ix 

Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam ----- xvii 

Prologue to the Cross and the Crescent - xxiii 

The Cross and the Crescent : A Drama of the First 

Crusade - -- - - -- - i 

Epilogue to the Cross and the Crescent - - 34 

The Siege of Granada : A Dramatic Poem - - ^"j 
The Ransomed Captive ; or, The Regeneration of 

Earth -------- ^^ 

The Nativity ------- 1^5 

The Bride that Never Groweth Old - - 151 

SURSUM CoRDA ------- i5o 

The Mist - - - - - - - - 162 

The Tear-Cleansed Scroll - - - - -163 

An Unknown Sister of Charity - - - - 166 

The Golden Sea ------- 168 

Rossini's Funeral Wreath - - - - - 170 



X CONTENTS. 

The Consecrated Months: 

PAGE. 

The Holy Childhood. — ^January- - - - 175 

The Passion. — February - - - - - -178 

St. Joseph. — March - - - - - - 180 

St. Joseph, Patron of the Universal Church - 183 

Ite ad Joseph - - - - - - - 185 

Lilies of St. Joseph - - -- - -188 

The Resurrection. — ^April - - - - - 189 

The Month of Mary. — May - - - - -191 

A Farewell Rhyme to May - - - - 194 

Household Shrines of Our Lady - - - - 196 

Our Queen of May ------ 197 

The Sacred Heart. — June ----- 200 

The Precious Blood. — ^July - - - _ 203 

Hymn to the Precious Blood - - - - 206 

The Immaculate Heart of Mary. — August - 208 

Cling to the Cross. — September - - - - 210 

The Religious Orders - - - - - 212 

The Holy Angels. — October - - - - -215 

Commemoration of All-Souls. — November - - 218 

Requiescant in Pace - - - - - -221 

The De Profundis Bell - - - - - 223 

Mater Immaculata. — December - - - - 225 

The Treasures of December - - - - 2 2() 

Our Patroness - - - - - - -228 

Cornelia's Jewels - - - - - - 231 

The Summer Queen - - - - - -234 



CONTENTS. XI 



PAGE. 



** He who Giveth to the Poor Lendeth to the 

Lord" --- = »--- 236 
Song of the Dawn - - - - = "237 

The Church Triumphant - - - - - 239 

The Truce of God - - - - - - 242 

A Dream of the Snow - - - - - 245 

Consecrated California - = - - - -247 

The Guard of Honor to the Sacred Heart - 248 
The Treasures of the Church - - - - 251 

The Holy Father's Silver Jubilee - - - 255 
The Vatican Council - - = - - ^259 
A Rhyme of Congratulation - - - - 262 

A Welcome to Right Rev. Bishop O'Connell - 267 
Bethlehem at the ''Mater Misericord i^ " - 278 
The Christian Brothers Burying the Dead on the 

Battle-Field of Champigny - - - - 281 

The '* Mater Misericordi^ " - - » - 283 
St. Ignatius - - - - - - - -285 

The Franciscan Martyr - - - - - 287 

The Orphan's Home - - - - - -291 

Song of the New Year - - - - - 294 

Our Father's Portrait - - - - - -298 

San Francisco - - - - - -- 299 

The Banquet of the King 301 

The Altar and the Offerings - - - - ^o^ 
The Bishops of Germany ----- 307 
The Orphan's Prayer for Benefactors - - 309 
The New Triumph of Rome : A Dramatic Poem - 311 



Xll CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 

Address for Washington's Birthday - - - 318 

The Spousal Sacrament - - - - - 320 

Saint Dominic - - - - - - - 322 

"There Stood, by the Cross of Jesus, His Mother" 325 

The Rock of Guadeloupe - - - - - 326 

The Poisoned Chalice - - - - - -329 

The True Tales of Chivalry - - - - 331 

St. Francis Xavier -_--». ^^4 

The Knight's Vigil ------ ^^S 

The Martyr's Twofold Office of Altar and 

Priest - - -- - -,- - 339 

The Vision of Saint Dominic - - - - 341 

Saint Vincent Ferrer ------ 343 

Saint Agnes - - - - - - - 345 

Father Junipero Serra - - - - - -347 

The Lily of Quito - - - - - - 349 

Saint Aloysius Gonzaga - - - - - -350 

The Christian Brothers' Golden Mine - - 351 

The Birds of Yo Semite - - - - "353 

The Vision of Const antine - . " - - 357 

The Lord's Anointed - - - - - -360 

SoBiESKi's Song of Triumph _ ^ - _ ^5^ 

California's Relics : The Missions - - - $66 

The Most Holy Rosary - - - - - ^6g 

The Shadow of the Cross - -- - -372 

The Passion Flower - - - - - - 375 

Maple Leaves - - - - -- -377 

Adelaide Anne Procter - - - - - 380 



CONTENTS Xlll 

PAGE. 

The Lesson Heeded - - - - -- 383 

The Earth Angel ------- ^Sy 

A Congratulatory Rhyme - - - - - 390 

Bishop McFarland. — In Memoriam - - - 391 

Rev. Thomas Briody - - - - - - 393 

Nellie. — In Memoriam ------ 394 

Mrs. Sarah E. McCormack - - - - 395 

Mrs. Ada Baine Guillen - - - - -397 

Mrs. Margaret C. Mahoney - - - - 399 

Little Bertha ------- 400 

Mrs. Manuela T. Curtis ----- 402 

GwiN Maynard - - - - - - -404 

E. H. Comerford --*--- 405 
James McNally - - - - - - - 407 

Harry Massey - - - » - - - 409 
The Angel and Child - - -- - -411 

Ireland's Consecration to the Sacred Heart - 413 
The Home of Our Lady of the Sacred Heart - 417 
The Trial of St. Francis de Sales - - - 420 
A Mother's Prayer - - - - - -423 

St. Philip Neri's Question - - - - 425 

The Captive's Welcome to Death - ° ° - 427 
Our Lady's Death - - - - - - 428 

Here She is Again - - - - - - 431 

Our Lady of La Salette - - - - - 434 

True Heroism >- - - - - - -436 

Orate, Fratres - - - - - - - 439- 

The Christmas Tree - - - - - -441 



XIV CONTENTS. 



PAGE. 



Saint Patrick's Day - - - - - - 443 

The Daisy -------- 446 

To A YouxG Friend - - - - - - 447 

The Ordeal of Queen Emma - - - - -448 

The Sister of Mercy's Change of Dress - - 452 
The Confessional - - - - - - -453 

The Isle of Saints - - - - -.- 455 

The Purification - - - - - - -458 

Saint Rose of Lima - - - - - - 461 

*'My Rome is in your Hearts" - - - - 463 

The Baptism of Our Lord - - - - - 465 

The Angelus - - - - -- - - 467 

The American Pilgrimage - - -- - 469 

The Brown Scapular - - - - - - 471 

The Rock of Saint Peter - - - - 473 

The Newly Baptized - - - - - -475 

Our Village ------- 477 

The Royal Catechist - - - - - -479 

Death of Tasso -- - - - - - 481 

The Martyrs of Sandomir - - - - - 484 

Lilies and Mignonette - - - - - 487 

Saint Francis Borgia before the Remains of the 

Empress Isabella - - - - - -489 

Advent ---, ----491 

An Offering to Jesus, Mary and Joseph - - 493 
The Prayer of Affection. — Tcr Miriam - - 495 
Columbus and Isabella - - - - - -496 

The Rock of Lourdes - - - - - 498 



CONTENTS. - XV 

PAGE. 

The Blessing of the Winter Storm - - - 500 

Saint Mary Magdalen ----- 504 
A Song for the Moss ------ 506 

Saint Patrick^s Prayer - - - - - 508 

The Papal Volunteers - - -- - -511 

Song of the Angel of Fire - - - - 512 

Mother Seton - - - - - -515 

Saint Patrick Crossing the Atlantic - - - 518 

Let us Go to Sweetness - - - - -519 

The True and Eternal Glory of Rome - - 520 

The Exiled Sisters - - - = - -523 

The Centennial of San Francisco - - - 525 

Adam anc Eve after the Fall - - - - 529 



AD MAJOREM DEI GLORIAM, 



I SAW from the radiant East unrolled 

The curtain of cloud and gloom, 
And the bright young monarch, in robe of gold. 

Arose from his riven tomb ; 
And the shining hosts of his herald-rays 

Their limitless pathway trod, 
And I read, in their glittering banners' blaze : 

"To the greater glory of God ! " 

They hurled their lances of light adown, 

And the night-bound eartli was free, 
And jewels flashed in the mountains' crown, 

And gleamed on the golden sea. 
They traced in the sheen of the purple hill, 

And wrote on the sparkling sod, 
And the waves reflected, with joyous thrill: 

" To the greater glory of God ! " 

In the dim old wood, and the bloomy bower, 

The gladdening splendor glows — 
On the dewy cup of the forest flower, 

And the heart of the royal rose ; 
And the tiny leaf, and the bloom most rare, 

That rise from the fragrant,sod. 
This legend fair on their brightness bear : 

"To the greater glory of God." 

And earth awakens her grandest song, 

To welcome the kingly day ; 
And soft are the notes of her insect throng. 

And sweet is her birdlings' lay. 



XVIU AD MAJOREM DEI GLORIAM. 

And the echoes ring through the forest dim. 
Where the breeze-stirred branches nod, 

The glad refrain of her ceaseless hymn : 
"To the greater glory of God." 

So the countless voices of earth resound, 

While the sun's bright legions pass 
Through the darksome caves of the deep profound, 

And over the bending grass; 
Till far o'er mountain, and stream, and vale. 

Night stretcheth her mystic rod. 
That song still sounds on the sighing gale : 

"To the greater glory of God." 

Then the gladsome sounds of the daylight cease, 

And over a silver stair 
The shining wings of the hosts of peace 

Float down through the dewy air. 
And o'er that path of the moonbeams bright, 

That linketh the sky and sod, 
They write, in letters of silvery light : 

" To the greater glory of God." 

And an awestruck hush o'er the earth is spread. 

And the twilight inurmurs die, 
Wliile the starry bands of the night-queen tread 

Their limitless realms on high; 
And the silent heart of the dreamer hears 

Float down to the dewy sod, 
The echoing song of the silver spheres : 

" To the greater glory of God." 

O bend thou low unto nature's scorn, 

Self worshipping heart of mine ! 
O veil thy forehead, thou ingrate, born 

To lead in the hymn divine I 
Ay, bend thou low to the ruthless stroke 

Of nature's Nemesis-rod, 
Thou mute, when the glorious psean woke: 

"To the greater glory of God." 



AD MAJOREM DEI GLORIAM. xix 

Forgive, and the heart of the wayward teach, 

O nature's carolling throng ! 
And bid its lowlier echoes reach 

The tones of your lofty song. 
With the lark's note ringing above the skies, 

And the bee's song on the sod, 
O let its carol harmonious rise : 

" To the greater glory of God." 

With the sunlight radiance let it shine, 

With the moonbeam brightness glow; 
Be its glory won from the source divine, 

And mirrored on earth below. 
When night shall wave o'er its day-beams fair 

Her drear and dark'ning rod, 
Be still the gleam of its starlight there : 

'' To the greater glory of God." 

And when the unending day shall fling 

Its light o'er the " crystal sea," 
And the aisles of the endless ages ring 

With the song of the countless free ; 
O'er the vast expanse of the kingdom fair, 

By the pure and the ransomed trod, 
Its voice in the echoing strain shall share: 

" To the greater glory of God." 



THE CROSS AND THE CRESCENT. 



THE CROSS AND THE CRESCENT: 



A DRAMA OF THE FIRST CRUSADE. 



Personages : — 

Joseph, an Aged Pilgrim, 
Mary, hs Daughter. 
Peter, the Hermit. 
Saracen Warden. 
Sir Hugh, a CJiristian Knight. 
Simon, Patriarch of Jerusalem, 
Lady Blanche. 
Lady Agnes. 
Marquis de Merincourt. 
Count de Lille. 
SOLIMAN, Sultan of Nice, 
Hamet, a Messenger, 
Godfrey. 
Raymond. 
Tancred. 
Baldwin. 
Christian Residents of Jerusalem, Soldiers, etc. 



PROLOGUE 



TO THE DRAMA OF 



THE CROSS AND THE CRESCENT. 



O PICTURED Past ! what privilege to see 

Thy golden age of faith and chivalry, 

When spell-bound Fancy turns her backward glance 

On those proud days of glory and romance ! 

What wondrous streams, enshrined in rosy light, 

What lofty pageants move before her sight ! 

What visions fair, in swift succession, throng 

The brightest scenes of story and of song ! 

The pomp of tourney, and its knightly train, 

The mail-clad hosts that filled the battle-plain; 

The hooded falcon and the baying hound, 

The fiery steed, whose footstep scorned the ground ; 

The moated castle, and its massive wall. 

The Christmas holly of the banquet hall; 

The yule-log's blaze, the wassail's spicy draught, z 

The courtly train that gayly smiled and quaffed ; 

The fearless archers of the greenwood free. 

The May-day sports beneath the bloom-decked tree. 

All these, in " bright confusion," strangely blend — 

Framework of visions that can know no end. 



XXIV PROLOGUE. 

But purer scenes, and holier pictures, too, 
Circled with halos, rise o'er fancy's view : 
Fair scenes that history scorns not to record. 
With comment glad and panegyric word. 
The gray-robed pilgrim, with his scallop-shell, 
His sandal-shoon, and staff that aided well 
In wintry blast, and summer's sultry heat. 
Still moving on with firm, unfalt'ring feet — 
Why roams he thus unceasing, day by day ? 
To what far region leads his cheerless way ? 
Seeks he the treasures of some golden mine ? 
Or would he bend at proud ambition's shrine? 
No ! no ! those faithful feet have longed to stand 
Within the limits of the Holy Land. 
He seeks the caskets of a priceless gem : 
Jerusalem, Nazareth, and Bethlehem ! 
His infant King he yearnelh to adore. 
Where sages bowed, and shepherds knelt before. 
He greets the cottage of the Holy Child 
In lonely Nazareth, obscure and wild ; 
And on, beside the Jordan's hallowed stream, 
Where once the sacred Dove's mysterious gleam 
Shone o'er the baptized Saviour's lifted head, 
Still moves the pilgrim's firm, unceasing tread, 
Till, from the summit of a rocky height, 
Jerusalem shines upon his longing sight. 
O ye who cross the mighty deep to tread 
Where dim Westminster shrines her noble dead ! 
Who hail the tombs of kings and warriors brave, 
And linger fondly by the poet's grave ! 
Say, can ye scorn tJiis pilgrim's bended knee, 
Upon the sacred height of Calvar}^ 



PROLOGUE. XXV 

Before the dear Redeemer's rocky tomb, 
And 'mid the olive garden's mystic gloom ? 
Ah ! 'twas a holy aim, for love divine 
Guided the pilgrim's path to Palestine. 
But o'er his way a fearful storm arose : 
The dreaded forms of cruel Moslem foes, 
Whose bloody spears sustained their erring cause, 
And won submission to their Prophet's laws. 
The faithful Christians felt their fiendish hate, 
And found a dismal doom — a hapless fate. 
Insult, oppression, and most grievous wrong — 
These woes the zealous Christians suffered long. 
And the vast armies of their paynim foe 
Still westward swept — a storm of death and woe ; 
To Christian climes, to Europe's hallowed lands. 
Nearer and nearer came the savage bands. 
The guarding shepherd of his Saviour's flock 
Saw the swift cloud, and heard the tempest-shock ; 
For the blest Church had shed a holy ray 
O'er Europe's pagan night and clouded way ; 
And long those zealous popes had cherished there 
The op'ning bud of learning, bright and fair. 
Now must it perish ? Must those blighting bands 
Destroy the hard-won gems of Christian lands? 
The cruel torch that burned fair Egypt's lore, 
Must it consume the Christian sage's store ? 
The thought was anguish ! and from favored Rome 
Rose many a prayer for bright religion's home. 
Heaven sent its answer ! With a heart of flame, 
And words of might, a holy hermit came. 
He saw dread foes pollute the sacred shrine, 
He saw the wrongs of fettered Palestine; 



xxvi PROLOGUE. 

And through each realm his tireless steps he bent, 
Repeating his sad story as he went, 
And urging potent prince and vaUant knight 
To battle for their safety and the right. 
They heard his voice — his sacred call obeyed : 
Armed, with their vassals, for the blest Crusade, 
And, with the cross upon each noble breast, 
Mounted their chargers, laid the lance in rest ; 
And while the battle-cry, " God wills it," rose 
From every heart, went forth to meet their foes; 
Resolved, beneath the Christian's holy sign. 
To battle well for faith and Palestine ; 
And bid, through strife and peril, gain and loss, 
The cruel Crescent pale before the Cross ! 



The Cross and the Crescent: 

A DRAMA OF THE FIRST CRUSADE. 



ACT L 

Scene I. — Before the gates of Jerusalem. 

Enter Joseph, a pilgrim, and his daugJiter, Mary. 

Mary. — Now, God be praised, mj father, thou 
may'st pause ! . 

Lo ! here the portal of Jerusalem ! 
How like a wear}- dream our journey seems ! 
But He who led his Israelites of old, 
Safe to their promised land, hath guided iis, 
Through our long, toilsome wand'rings, hither; but 
'Tis not the hour of entrance. We must wait 
The porter's comTng. Meanwhile, seat thyself 
Here on this mossy stone. Poor, aged limbs ! 
Sore need have they of rest. 

Joseph. — Nay, nay, my child I 

Thus will I take repose. {Kneels.) Here, lowly 

bowed 
Before the holy city of His love, 
The scene of all His matchless sufferings, 
Will I adore my Saviour, Sovereign, God! 
1 thank Thee, Lord, the pilgrim's prayer is heard 1 
The goal is won ! O joy unutterable ! 



2 Beside the Western Sea. 

The yearnings of this heart are satisfied : 

To look upon Thy loved Jerusalem, 

O'er whose proud stubbornness Thy tears have 

flowed ; 
To follow where Thy blood-marked footsteps went, 
Thou thorn-crowned Monarch! o'er the royal load 
Of pain and anguish to Thy mystic throne— 
The cross Thy creatures reared on Calvary. 
( Ah, rocky height ! henceforth most fruitful soil, 
Bearing bright blossoms of redeeming grace 1) 
Ay, and to kneel before Thy sepulchre, 
Whose narrow limits could not fetter Thee^ 
When Thy sweet work was done. This boon, dear 

Lord, 
Thou knowest how, through all these weary years. 
It was the ceaseless burden of my prayer ; 
For I believed that nearer unto Thee 
My soul could come — could win a clearer sense, 
A deeper knowledge, of the priceless gifts 
Thy love hath purchased, if these feet could stand 
Upoji the soil once watered by Thy blood. 
And hallowed by Thy travel- w^earied steps ; 
If the last glances of these age-dimmed eyes 
Might rest upon those consecrated spots, 
The scenes of earth's most wondrous tragedy, 
Her Maker's death of agony. And now, 
Beyond this gate, the blessed recompense 
Of one poor pilgrim's gladly-suffered toils. 
The fair reality of his fond dreams — 
Jerusalem, with all her peerless wealth 
Of hallowed shrines reposes. 



The Cross and the Crescent. 3 

Enter Peter the Hermit. 

Peter. — God be praised ! 

And when our eyes have feasted on that wealth, 
Can we not cry in grateful ecstasy, 
E'en as the holy Hebrew cried, of old, 
'* Lord, let thy servants now depart in peace: " 
Our eyes have seen the city of thy love? 

Joseph. — Ay, holy hermit ! for no other scene 
On earth is worthy to attract the gaze 
Of eyes that have beheld Jerusalem, 
And wept on Calvary. 

Peter. — Alas ! alas ! 

That earth's most h^ly treasures e'er should be 
In the foul grasp of ruthless infidels ! 
That Christian pilgrims must await the will 
Of their Redeemer's enemies ere they 
Can weep in that lone garden where He wept, 
Or linger, with His Mother, at the cross. 
Or haste, with Magdalen, at early dawn, 
To the rent tomb of their triumphant Lord ! 

Ejiter Saracen Officer. 

Saracen. — Another troop of crouching Christian 
dogs ! 
Ha ! ha ! methinks your pious pilgrimage 
Hath been of little profit, for ye seem 
A beggar train, in sooth. But so are all 
Your pilgrim tribe. The staff, the scallop-shell. 
The robe of gray, the dusty sandal shoon — 
All, all alike. A Christian pilgrimage ! 
Bah ! what a weary misery must it be ! 
Away ! ye dogs ! the Moslem spurns ye thus ! 



4 Beside the Western Sea. 

Allah be praised that ye are in our power ! 
We hold your holy places. Ay, 'tis well 
To make these Christians grovel at our feet. 
'Tis thus your brethren crouch within 3'on walls; 
'Tis thus all Christendom shall crouch ere long, 
For we have sworn to tear from every tower 
In Christian Europe that detested cross, 
And rear our flaming crescent in its place. 
Away ! awa}^ ! and bid your race prepare 
To bend before the Prophet's followers, 
The future rulers of the world. Begone ! 
Our city hath too many of your kind. 

Joseph. — Ah ! fatal blow of all my dearest hopes ! 
Father I Thy will be done! At least, at least, 
I may yield up my worthless life to Thee, 
Thus near that mount where Thy own priceless life 
Was sacrificed for m.e. (Shiks down, exhausted}^ 

Mary {supporting him). — Alas ! he dies ! 

In pity hear my pleading ; spurn me not, 
But give my father entrance through yon gate — 
That hope hath been the day-star of his life. 
Fulfil it now, and I will gladly be 
A life-long prisoner, a drudging slave. 
Nay, more ! I'd shed my heart's last crimson drop 
To gratify my father's fondest wish, 
And think the favor all too cheaply bought. 

Peter. — Refuse them not ; as thou would'st find 
sweet aid 
And soothing mercy in thine hour of need, 
So grant the pilgrim's last petition now, 
And let his wearied soul depart in peace, 
Within the walls of his Jerusalem. 



The Cross and the Crescent, 5 

Saracen. — Cease, babblers, cease! Have ye the 
piece of gold. 
The tribute- money which your race must pay, 
Ere ye can win admission through yon gate? 
If so, your prayer is granted. 

Mary. — Woe is me ! 

I have no gold. A cruel robber-band 
Of roving Bedouins have taken all. 
Save one small coin, and with that, ycster-eve, 
I bought refreshment for my fainting sire. 
For he drooped, worn with hunger, by the way. 
Alas ! I knew not of this entrance-price. 

Saracen. — And thou hast dared to talk of 
slav(Ty ! 
Of willingness to suffer prison-bonds ! 
Fool ! know'st thou not that 1 could cast thee hence 
Into the foulest dungeon yonder, where 
Are Christians pining now. And slavery ! 
Ay, drudging servitude — a life as hard 
As is the toihng over-burdened beast's — 
Is now the fate of hundreds of thy race, 
In the fair city of Jerusalem ! 
Go, then, and think thyself supremely blest 
That thou art suffered to depart ! And thou, 
Most pious pleader ! hast thou, then, the sum 
To win thy entrance? Nay, I'll warrant me '1 

Thou hast not e'en the smallest coin of brass. 

Peter. — Thy taunt is true. I have not e'en a com 
Of brass or copper. Nay, for I may bear 
Nor purse, nor scrip. It is the Master's law, 
To whose blest service I am vowed, and so 
I bow me to His holv will. He knows 



6 Beside the Western Sea. 

How I have longed to shed the soothing tear 
Of heart-felt penitence upon that shrine — 
That rocky altar, where He, Victim-Lamb 
And Priest, united, freel}^ offered up 
A perfect, priceless sacrifice for man. 

Saracen. — Go hence, then, to thy cave, and spend 
thy life 
In longings for a boon thou shalt not win 
Until the tribute-price be paid. Away ! 
Or must I drive ye hence? {^Advances threateni?igty.) 

Sir Hugh rushes in. 
Sir Hugh. — Hold ! hold ! I say, 

Thou fiendish savage! Take thy tribute-bribe ! 

\TJirows down a purse. 
Here is a goodly heap of that vile trash : 
The gold thy soul doth worship. Take it, then, 
And straightway ope 3'our gate. 

[Saracen stops to count the money. 
Sir Hugh. — Nay, hnger not! 

I am that Christian knight who saved the life 
Of thy proud caliph. 'Twill be worse for thee 
If thou dost venture to refuse. 

Saracen.— Sir knight, 

Thy gold hath magic charms, albeit thy words 
Are bold, in sooth. Yet, as the Prophet lives, 
I like thy proud, outspoken bravery. 

Peter (extending his hand^. — God's benison upon 

thee, noble knight ! 
Sir Hugh {bozving). — ^Nay, holy hermit, if this 
trivial act 



The Cross and the Cresce^it. 7 

Hath won thy prayers, 'tis fuller recompense 
x\nd richer meed than I could dare to claim. 

\_Turns to the other pitgrhns. 

Rise, Christian friends! and freely pass yon gate. 

Mary. — Alas, sir knight ! the rude repulse we met 
From yonder Saracen hath proved,. I fear, 
A death-blow to my feeble, aged sire. 

{Sir Hugh hotds a flask of zvater to his lips. 
He opens his eyes. 
Sir Hugh. — Nay, courage, maiden! See, thy 
father lives ! 
Arise, good sir, ^md enter freely now ! 

Mary.— Arise, my father, let us thank this knight, 
Whose noble act hath won the wished-for boon. 

Joseph. — Nay, is it so ? O, this is life indeed ! 
I feel my ancient strength return once more. {Rises.) 
Joseph and Mary. — May God reward thee, 

noble cavalier! 
Sir Hugh. — Nay, nay, good friends, I merit not 
your thanks ! 
I were unworthy e'en the name of knight. 
Had I refused my aid. But we must haste ; 
These Saracens are treacherous. Let us, then, 
Follow yon warder with all speed. Good sir, 
Lean thus on me, and I will lend my strength, 
That we may quickly enter. Wilt lead on, 
Good father hermit? We shall follow thee. 

{Exeunt: JOSEPH, supported by Mary, and 
Sir YiV)Q\l, preceded by Peter tJie Hermit, 
closely follozving the porter. 



8 Beside the Western Sea. 

Scene II. — Peter the Hermit, soliloquizing at the 

Holy Sepulchre. 
Ah ! this is holy ground ! the heart must bow 
In silent awe, in rev'rent homage now. 
My Saviour's tomb! O words of mystery i 
Yet clearest pictures of His love for me. 
'Tis good to linger here. 'Tis good to stand 
Within the limits of His holy land, 
To tread those streets His blessed footsteps trod, 
To hail the tomb that hid the martyred God ; 
To weep in that lone garden, where He wept 
O'er sinners' woes, e'en while those sinners slept, 
And the pure stars in sjanpathy looked dim, 
As the dread cup was offered unto Him ; 
To linger where the perfect Victim hung 
On that strange shrine, to which He freely clung, 
Bidding^ His sacred blood unceasino- flow 
A sea of grace, adown the mount of woe. 
And this lone, rocky tomb, the wondrous mine 
Of love's own treasure, priceless, pure, divine I 
Here, here the Conqueror triumphed over death, 
And healed the blight of sin's envenomed breatli. 
How clearly rise upon my spirit's view 
Redemption's scenes, in pictures fair and true I 
His sepulchre ! sweet gate of heaven ! here 
Can I most fitly shed the soothing tear, 
And bid my heart's best tide of love be spent 
E'en at this portal, by the Victor rent. ,' 

And yet, alas ! a foul, polluting race 
Invade the limits of this holy place. 
Here, 'neath the shadow of His cross they stand, 
And rear, with demon might and daring hand. 



The Cross and the Crescent. 9 

The false, false symbol of their fiendish hate 

For Him whose life hath opened mercy's gate ! 

E'en, e'en for them I But let me utter, too. 

His words: "Forgive! they know not what they 

do!" 
Dear Lord of lov^e ! give vision to the blind 
Who scorn this casket where Thy form was shrined ! 
Let the dread reign of cruel error cease, 
That faithful hearts may seek Thy tomb in peace, 
And every nation bless the Crucified, 
And love the holy city where He died. 

Enter SiMON, Patriarch of Jeriisalein. 

Simon. — Amen ! Good pilgrim, I have murmured 
here 
That earnest prayer, through many a wear}^ year; 
Yet while mine eyes behold the unchecked wrong. 
My saddened heart exclaimeth, " Lord ! how long?" 
How long, blest Saviour! shall a tyrant hand 
Rest on the treasures of Th)' holy land ? 
How long shall those whose love hath led them here, 
Above Thy tomb to shed the sacred tear. 
Be crushed, insulted, even at that tomb, 
And find, in freedom's land, the captive's doom ? 
When shall Th}^ faithful children cease to feel 
The iron pressure of the despot's heel? 

Peter. — O holy patriarch ! to many a scene 
Of cruel wrong my shrinking soiil hath been 
Indignant v;itness; e'en to-day I saw 
Two Christians forced, like drudging beasts, to draw 
A laden wain ; bound, too, in camel-yoke, 
And hailed with scoffs, and urged by cruel stroke ! 



lo Beside the Western Sea. 

Simon. — Alas! dear pilgrim, would such scenes 
Avere few ! 
Too oft, too oft, they meet the startled yiew ; 
And I, the Christians' patriarch, must see 
My children's woes, without the power to free. 
O that some valiant host, undaunted, strong, 
Would win redress for this most grievous wrong, 
And check the progress of this fearful band, 
Who swear to conquer every Christian land ; 
To ride to victory on the boundless flood 
Of Christian tears and hated Christian blood ! 
To tear the cross from each polluted shrine, 
And plant, instead, the Moslem's crescent sign ! 

Peter. — List ! holy patriarch ! full many a knight, 
High-souled, strong-armed, and undismayed in fight, 
Dwells, even now, in Christian climes afar. 
Whose heart would thirst for just, long-needed war 
'Gainst the barbarian horde, the savage race, 
Whose tyrant hands pollute each holy place. 
And whose unconquered sword and unchecked 

hand 
Will sweep, like poison blast, o'er every land. 
Back to its deserts must that blast be driven — 
List to my counsel ! 'Tis the will of heaven ! 
In good Pope Urban thou wilt find a friend ; 
Unto him, then, thy heart's petitions send, 
And to each Christian prince, — for all are brave, 
And strong, withal, — the Holy Land to save. 
To-morrow morn I take my homeward way, . 
And thence thy pleading missive will convey. 
Throughout each Christian kingdom will I go. 
And there recount the tale of matchless woe ; 



The Cross and the Crescent. 1 1 

And urge the brave, by every tender claim, 
For Faith's dear sake, in Mercy's holy name, 
With valiant arm to crush this frightful foe, 
And hush their fellow-Christians' wail of woe ; 
To tear the crescent from this holy wall, 
To bid the cruel throne of Islam fall, 
And checking error's God-defying reign. 
Plant the pure cross upon these towers again. 

Simon. — 'Tis heaven's will, and heaven's holy fire 
Doth light thy glance, thy earnest tones inspire. 
How willingly will I those words obey, 
And bid God speed thee on thy holy way ! 
My home is near, haste with me hither, then, 
And let thy ardent zeal inspire my pen ; 
And while sweet mercy's charge thou'lt homeward 

bear, 
Thy name shall dwell in my unceasing prayer. 

[Exeunt. 



Scene III. — A valley of Lorraine. Enter Lady 

Blanche. 

Lady Blanche. — Peace ! perfect peace ! how, 
like a white-winged dove 
It broodeth o'er the landscape ! Everywhere 
Doth nature own its charm. In soft repose 
She rests, as though sweet Eden memories 
Were haunting all her heart. An infant's breath 
Is not more gentle than this morning breeze, 
That scarcely stirs the incense-laden flowers ; 
And e'en the golden light that softly floods 
Each moissy dell, but makes the stillness seem 



12 Beside the Western Sea. 

Deeper and more intense ; as beaming smiles 
On face of slumb'rer tell of softest dreams. 
Alas ! alas ! that man's discordant strife 
Should mar the loveliness of nature's rest! 
That he, the lord of all this smiling earth, 
Should ever make its sacred quietude 
Unwilling witness of his violence. 

Enter Lady Agnes. 

Lady Agnes.— Av, ay, sweet friend ! thy mourn- 
ful thoughts are mine, 
And the same cause, I ween, hath summoned them ;■ 
This quiet vale, ere sets yon shining sun, 
Must be the scene of fierce, unholy strife. 
My brother, and thy kinsman, Guy De Lille, 
Have vowed to meet in deadly combat here, 
E'en on this tranquil morn. Alas ! alas! 
This velvet turf shall soon be strangely dyed. 

Lady Blanche. — O fiendish feuds ! when will 
they cease to fill 
Faif Europe's vales with tumult ? From yon tower 
Of our ancestral wall my glance can rest 
On the fair lands and castle of De Lille ; 
Yet the}^, whose fields are thus so closely linked, 
Are severed by a dark, unchristian feud. 

Lady Agnes. — I fear me much that angered 
heaven will send, 
Full soon, dread retribution. Brothers here 
Pour out each other's blood, in their blind rage. 
Unheeding that a fierce barbarian foe 
Speeds now, perchance, like tempest-driven cloud, 
On, on o'er Europe's fair, faith-hallowed soil. 



The Cross and the Crescent. i 



o 



Lady Blanche. — O gentle friend ! that dark fore- 
boding fills 
My daily thoughts and nightly dreams with woe. 
My cousin Mary — dost remember her? 
Last year she went on holy pilgrimage 
With her loved sire, the saintly Sieur De Vaux, 
Unto our Saviour's sepulchre. To-day 
A holy palmer, on his homeward way 
From Palestine, did tell a sad, sad tale 
0£ my sweet cousin. She is there detained 
A captive, pining in a dungeon cell ! 
My gentle Mary in the Moslem's powxr! 
The thought, the fearful thought, doth chill my 

heart ; 
And her poor father, feeble, old, and spent 
With the fatigue of his long pilgrimage. 
Hath sunk beneath the fiendish cruelty 
Of that fierce race who rule the Holy Land. 
Lady Agnes. — 'Tis woful tidings ! And my 
darkest fears 
Wax stronger, darker, by this tale of woe. 
But'yester-eve, when kneeling at his feet, 
In tearful supplication, I did breathe 
This fear unto my brother, as I prayed 
That, for sw^eet mercy's sake, he would renounce 
This fierce, unnatural strife. He darkly frowned, 
And bade me, if I would not share his hate — 
His deep, undying hate — to hold my peace. 
Nor dare, with childish tears and w^hining tongue, 
To bid a knight forswear his knightly vow. 
O that a heart so full of gentleness, 
And tender, pitying, bounteous charity, 



14 Beside the Western Sea. 

Should be thus blinded, warped by erring code 

Of what the world calls feudal chivalry ! 

But I have turned my soulful pray'r to heaven ; 

And now, to yonder consecrated shrine, 

The cross-crowned dwelling of a God of peace 

And pitying love, I hie me — there to pour 

jNIy heart's deep anguish forth in prayer. 

Ladv BLA^XHE. — Sweet friend, 

i will attend thee thither; we will waft 
Our mingled sighs to heaven, and God will hear 
Our fond and tearful pleadings. This sw^eet day 
Shall not be witness of unchristian strife — 
Shall not bring death and wailing to our homes. 
Pray too, with me, that those now severed hearts 
Of Europe's noblest knights may form, ere long, 
A sacred league to wrest the Holy Land 
From the foul grasp of infidels; to free 
Their fellow-Christians from a tyrant's power, 
And check the dread simoom, now sweeping on 
From Asia's deserts o'er our hallowed clime. 

[Exeunt, 

Enter Peter the Hermit. 

Peter. — God grant that prayer ! O worse than 
demon strife ! 
What marvel that the pure, paternal heart 
Of our loved pope doth mourn unceasingly 
O'er the unchristian feuds of Christian knights, 
Who, heedless of his fond remonstrances, 
And the pure precepts of a peaceful faith. 
Still bid their brethren's blood cry, as of old. 
From earth to angered heaven I And, holy pope. 



The C7VSS and the Crescent. 1 5 

Well, well, too, may'st thou mourn o'er this fair 

land, 
So lately led, from dreary pagan night, 
To the clear morning-light of Christian truth, 
Now doomed, unless some valiant arm will save, 
To feel the with'ring blight of Moslem hand ; 
And e'en, while basking in fair learning's morn. 
Be plunged again in depths of Stygian gloom. 
O that my voice could check the coming storm ! 
Could make these passion-blinded nobles see 
The woes that threaten thus, and bid them form 
A sacred compact for their own defence. 
And the deliverance of the hapless band 
Who pine 'neath Moslem, God-defying rule, 
By the polluted shrines of Palestine ! 
Hist ! hist ! I hear the coming combatants. 
Alas ! that hate should darken brows like those ! 

\_Conceals himself. 

Enter De MerincoURT and De Lille. 
De Lille. — This is the place of combat. Nerv-e 
thine arm. 
Marquis De Merincourt, for deadly strife ! 
De Merincourt. — Nay, Count De Lille, this arm 
hath strength, I trow, 
To cope with thine, as it hath done ere this. 

Peter tJie Hermit suddenly appears. 

Peter. — Hold ! most unworthy children 
Of a God of love and peace ! 
Pause in vour demon pastime! 
Your strife unholv cease I 



1 6 Beside the Western Sea. 

Ye that were linked tosrether 

In faith's fraternal chain, 
Can ye thus rudely sever 

That sacred bond in twain? 
The pure baptismal water — 

Hath it not la^•ed each brow, 
That, stamped with fiercest passion, 

Is madly scowling now ? 
Those lips that breathed to heaven 

The same sweet words of prayer — • 
Can they, with tones of discord, 

Pollute the tranquil air? 
Ye share one blessed banquet. 

At one pure shrine ve kneel, 
Yet, scarce from worship risen, 

Uplift the horrid steel ! 
And can ve hope for heaven's 

Serene, harmonious life, 
Yet pass, O Cain-like brethren, 

Your earthly days in strife ? 
Men ! Christians I pause and listen : 

^Vhile ye are warring here, 
Your fello\v-Christians perish 

Beneath the Moslem spear. 
Ye've vowed to aid the injured, 

Ye've sworn to crush the wrong, 
Yet Christians pine in dungeons, 

And crv, " O Lord I how lonsr?" 
The Saracen hath planted, 

With sacrilegious hand, 
His false, triumphant standard 

Within the Holv Land. 



The Cross and the Crescent. 17 

Lo ! on the walls of Zion, 

And o'er each sacred shrine, 
Waves now his blood-stained banner, 

And gleams his crescent sign. 
The tomb of your Redeemer, 

The mount whereon He bled, 
Have known that haughty presence, 

That foul polluting tread ; 
And they who fain would linger 

Beside each holy place — 
Each scene of man's redemption. 

And heaven's saving grace — 
Who've longed to hold, on Calvary, 

Celestial converse sweet. 
Like dogs ai'e spurned and trampled 

'Neath unbelieving feet. 
And, Christians ! pause and listen : 

While ye are warring here, 
A just and fearful judgment 

Too surely draweth near. 
Within the fairest province 

Of olive-laden Spain, 
The Moorish unbeliever 

Holds now his haughty reign. 
Would ye see that rule extended. 

And groan beneath his tread ? 
To the crescent sign of error 

Would ye bow the servile head? 
Up ! up ! renounce your quarrels, 

And form one sacred band, 
To guard your own dominions, 

And save the Holy Land ! 



i8 Beside the Western Sea. 

God wills the holy compact ! 
By all ye hold most dear, 
By your vow to aid the injured, 

And to break the tyrant's spear ; 
By your love for faith's pure altars, 

And your zeal for its sweet sign, 
Aid the Cross against the Crescent! 
Strive for God and Palestine ! 
De Merincourt.— Ay, ay, God wills it! These 
are magic words, 
They rouse m}^ soul from its unworthy sleep ; 
The scales of passion leave my sight. Henceforth, 
One lance shall ne'er be stained with brother's 

blood. 
Give me thy hand fraternal ! Let us make 
A new, a worthy vow— the vow of peace 
And Christian reconciliation ; thus 
We seal the sacred pledge. Our arms shall be 
Linked in the cause of justice, God and truth. 

[They clasp hands. 
De Lille. — Ay, in this hold, this fond fraternal 
clasp, 
Let us crush out our most unchristian hate; 
And, linked in unity that maketh strong. 
Bid these firm hands begin a nobler strife. 
And O what potent voices rouse us now ! 
Our faith, our homes, the safety of our land ; 
Our knightly vow to check the tyrant Wrong, 
And wrest his victims from his demon grasp ; 
Our zeal, as children of the thorn-crowned King, 
For the protection of each holy place 
Whereon our rich inheritance was won — 



The Cross and the Crescent. 19 

These voices cry from every sacred mount 
And hallowed vale of that fair Eastern land, 
The shrine of love's great sacrifice. At last, 
We hear that blest appeal. 

De Merincourt. — Thy magic voice, 

O holy hermit! hath awakened us: 
And may all Europe hear those thrilling tones, 
And join the sacred compact. Come, dear Guy, 
Henceforth my friend, my comrade ! come with me ; 
A knightly throng within my banquet hall 
Are gathered even now. They, too, shall see 
The magic influence of holy words — 
The new, sweet consummation of our strife — 
The worthy conquest love hath won to-day. 
And thou, too, reverend hermit, haste with me, 
And let thy heaven-inspired accents rouse 
Yon throng of chieftains to heroic deeds, 
In the blessed cause of God and Palestine. 

\Exeunt. 

Scene IV. — Soliman, Sultan of Nice. 
SOLIMAN. — Now, out upon that plaguing Persian 
race. 
Who, with their wretched schism, so impede 
The progress of Moaveah's followers ! 
In truth, these false Mahometans are worse. 
Ay, more vexatious than our Christian foes. 
Well, let them strive — the Turkish Mussulmans 
Shall never 3ueld to All's erring sons. 
Ha! ha! we've argued well. Full many a prize 
Hath the scorned Turkman wrested from their 
grasp. 



20 Beside the Western Sea.- 

Jerusalem, with all its whining throng 

Of Christians, still is ours. Soon, very soon, 

Egypt's proud Caliph may be taught to bow" 

To the scorned Sultan of the Turkish race ; 

And to our heav'n-blest arms, alone, shall be 

The deathless glory and the rich reward 

Of conquest o'er the longed-for Christian world. 

Ay, thanks to Allah and our scymitars, 

The crescent still prevails. Our Prophet's throne 

Full soon will crush beneath its conqu'ring w^eight 

The Christian crew, and tlieir rebellious creed. 

We triumph by the sword. No pleading tone, 

No fond entreaty, wins our convert throng. 

The fierce-browed soldier, the relentless spear, 

And streaming blood, and death of agony — 

These are our priests ! these our baptismal rites ! 

O Christian dogs ! thus will we win your souls, 

Your kingdoms, and your wealth. Thus have we 

won 
Your holy city and your cherished shrines — 
Our Emir rules them w^ell. The hated band 
Of meek-faced pilgrims w^ell may testify 
How stern, how merciless, how terrible, 
Is the dominion of the Musstdman 
O'er the opposers of his conqu'rmg creed. 
" Allah il Allah I " how^ that thrilling cry 
Will ring, ere long, o'er Europe's haughty realm ! 
How redly, in the fierce, destroying flame, 
Will their proud libraries, their cherished store 
Of manuscripts and massive volumes, gleam ! 
So gleamed they once in Egypt's capital, 
When Omar's torches doomed the lettered trash 
To ashes and oblivion — hist! who comes? 



The Civss and the C7^escent 21 

Enter Hamet. 
SOLIMAN. — What! Hamet! here? Why comest 

thou from Nice ? 
Thy looks, thy garaients, do betoken haste — 
What meaneth this? Speak, fear-struck dotard, 

speak ! 
What gloomy phantom hath affrighted thee? 

Hamet. — Benignant ruler, and most favored son 
Of our great Prophet! deign to lend thine ear 
Unto thy faithful servant, and forgive 
This hasty entrance and unwonted guise. 
The weighty message he hath hither borne 
Must plead in his defence. The capital 
Is in most dismal strait and peril soj:'e. 

SOLIMAN. — Ha! ha! thine Opium draughts have 

crazed th}^ brain. 
Our Nice in peril? Nice in dismal strait? 
How dar'st thou bring thy senseless ravings here? 
Off! off! and drive thy phantoms hence by sleep ! 
Hamet. — Nay ! hear me, gracious lord ! My 

words are truth. 
A Christian army, countless as the leaves 
Of a vast forest in the summer's prime, 
Are now besieging our great capital — 
Th}^ Vizier bade me hither speed, and say 
That, if thou dost not straightway send good aid, 
The garrison must yield to Christian arms. 

SOLTMAN. — To Christian arms ! No ! as the 

Prophet lives, 
The race of dogs shall not win entrance there. 
And 1 was dreaming of the victory. 
The triumph, over hated Christendom, 



2 2 Beside the Western Sea. 

That seemed so near, so certain ! 'Tis most strange ! 
We had no warning of this host's approach. 
Surely they journeyed hither on the wings 
Of the swift midnight blast ! But they shall die 
As dies that blast upon the torrid waste 
Of wide Arabian deserts. Dare they hope 
To bid the Crescent pale before the Cross? 
Presumptuous fools ! We'll bid them howl with 

woe 
For this, their mad attempt ! Aw^ay ! aw^ay ! 
And summon ev'rv warrior to arms! 
Go ! bid them straightway sally forth to Nice ! 
Stay! I'll go with thee, for my presence there 
Will be as fuel to their fiery zeal. 
Haste! haste! and let our ceaseless summons be: 
Death, unrelenting death, to Christian dogs ! 

\Exeunt 



Scene V. — Eve of the conquest of Jerusalem. 
Godfrey of Lorraine {solus), 

Godfrey. — O holy city of the Christian's love! 

Why art thou still the cruel Moslem's prey ? 
Surely our cause is just, is blest above : 

Then why doth needed victory delay ? 
The paynim crescent gleams, unconquered still, 

Where faith's Crusaders fain would plant the 
cross ; 
And truth lies crushed beside the sacred hill 

Where Israel's martyred King redeemed our 
loss. 



The Cross and the Crescent. 2 



o 



Still, from within those error-guarded walls, 

Forth on the air the captives' shrieks are borne ; 
And ceaselessly the lash of torture falls 

On those who, helpless and unaided, mourn. 
Our ranks are thinned — each knightly spirit sinks 

Depressed, discouraged by the prospect drear, 
While the fierce scjmiitar in triumph drinks 

Deep draughts of blood — the Christian's life- 
blood dear. 
O Lord of Hosts ! how long shall these things be ? 

How long shall thine own land be thus defiled, 
And saddest echoes rise, unhushed, to Thee, 

Of wailing servitude and anguish wild ? 
In sorrow bowed, O Father ! we repent 

Of every sin against Thy sacred laws. 
For much we fear our guilty hearts prevent 

The glorious end of our most holy cause. 
A sudden hope dawns on my night of woe — 

We yet ma}^ knecl before the holy shrine, 
And bid the tear of humble penance flow, 

'Mid grateful hymns for rescued Palestine. 
So will I hie me to my warriors brave. 

And bid them win, by penitence and prayer, 
The grace to gain the blessed boon we crave. 

Ere night shall hide to-morrow's sunlight fair. 

\Exit. 

Enter Raymond, Tancred, and Baldwin. 

Raymond. — O brave companions ! 'tis a weary 
strife. 
And weary days have passed since yonder walls 
First met our longing gaze. Can we forget 



24 Beside the Wester^i Sea. 

The thrilling scene when, prostrate on the earth, 
Our glittering hosts first hailed Jerusalem ? 
How throbbed each heart with deep and holy joy ! 
There, there, beyond those walls, the object fair 
Of Faith's Crusade, of Faith's sweet visions, lay — 
There, in the sunlight, slept Gethsemane ; 
There rose the rocky altar of the cross, 
There knelt the pilgrims at love's sepulchre, 
To free those holy shruies from Moslem grasp. 
To bid the Christians worship there in peace. 
Was our blest aim. ^' God wills it ! " How that cry 
Rose in one mighty voice from every heart! 

Baldwin. — Alas, alas, that aim is not fulfilled, 
And bravest souls are sick'ning with despair ! 
Still, still, yon portal is as firmly closed 
As when the Christian army rested first 
Outside its massy towers; and little hope 
Remaineth of our longed-for entrance there. 

Tancred. — Yet, courage, knights ! success will 
bless our arms, 
If we be strong of heart and firm of hand. 
" Nil desperandum ! " 'Tis a motto fair, 
And he who follows it can never fail. 
What? Can we faint with Godfrey at our head? 
The pure-souled Godfrey, valiant, undismayed. 
Saintly in life, adored by all who know 
And own him as their leader? Crush the thousfht! 
To-morrow we will strive with trebled zeal : 
'Tis our last chance, yet humblest confidence 
In heaven's sure aid doth bid me banish fear. 



The Cress and the Crescent. 25 

Ent€7' Peter tlic Hermit. 

Peter. — Brave Tancred ! th}' courage will win 

thee success — 
The hopeful in spirit sweet heaven will bless ; 
Tlie Christian shall triumph, the cross shall pre 

vail — 
God wills it ! God wills it ! His word cannot fail. 
He wills the blest triumph of right over wrong, 
He wills that the just in the strife shall be strong ; 
Though the clouds may be dark, yet His light can 

shine through — 
God wills it! God wills it! His promise is true 1 
'Tis to chasten, to humble, He sendeth delay — 
Though the journey be long, shall we faint by the 

way ? 
No ! onward and upward, with hearts strong and 

pure ! 
God wills it ! God wills it ! His word shall endure I 
By virtue, bv vigils, by penance and prayer, 
Man gaineth the power to do and to dare — 
With a purified heart, and an unsullied hand, 
We ma\' ai:r, the sure arrow, and lift the true brand ; 
For He who bade Israel triumph of old — 
The just God ol armies doth bid ye be bold. 
To the helper of Gideon gratefully bow, 
God willeth, God willeth, your victory now ! 
To-morrow — 'tis Friday — redemption's bright day, 
When the Conqueror passed o'er the death-darkened 

way ; 
To give ye blest ransom, to bid ye be free. 
He clung to His throne on the blood-purpled tree. 



t6 Beside the Western Sea. 

The garden He wept in, the m(3unt where He bled, 
Have felt the pollution of Saracen tread — 
Up, up, to their rescue ! nor falter, till they 
Are won by the Cross, on its festival day. 
But O, let sweet mercy with justice be twined — 
To the pleading give ear, to the helpless be kind ; 
And armed thus with virtue, go forth to the fight^ 
God wills it ! God wills it ! we strive for the right ! 

Enter Godfrey. 

Godfrey. — O noble war-cry, worthy of our 
cause ! 
To-morrow it shall ring with thrilling power 
From those brave hearts who battle for the right. 
Comrades ! our task, as leaders in the strife. 
Must be, by bright example, to enforce 
Precepts of valor, charity, and zeal. 
Let us be brave, but gen'rous ; let no deed 
Of cruelty or passion stain the cross 
We wear upon our breasts, and m whose name 
We wage our holy warfare. Let us haste 
To our dear chapel, there to win, by prayer 
And holy vigil, purest benisons 
Upon the Christian arms. Thy pleadings blest, 
O holy hermit ! will give strength to ours, 
And waft them heav'nward, as an incense-cloud, 

[Exeunt, 



The Cross and the Crescent. 27 

Scene VI. — The morning after the conquest of 
Jerusalem. Peter the Hermit {soltcs). 

Peter. — Th^ prize is won. At last, at last, 
The Red Sea of our strife is past ! 
God's chosen ones may safely stand 
On thy freed soil, O Promised Land ! 
And o'er those streets, unfettered, tread 
Where Israel's Victim-Lamb was led. 
The pilgrim here may freely bow 
Before thy holv places now — 
May stand upon that summit lone, 
The Victim's shrine, the Sov'reign's throne — 
Muse 'mid the olive garden's gloom, 
And kneel beside his Saviour's tomb. 
O loved Jerusalem ! art thou free ? 
Hath the dread shadow fled from thee? 
Or am I mocked by cruel gleam 
Of glowing fancy's faithless dream? 
No ! no ! the blissful scene is true. 
At last, before my longing view. 
The Christian symbox gleameth bright 
From lofty wall and mountain height ; 
No more the crescent's haughty glare 
Defies thy sacred sunlight fair ; 
No more will sighing captives pine, 
Or Moslem ha'ids pollute the shrine. 
Fled is the shoctow, loosed the chain, 
And Faith resumes her peaceful reign. 
O Lord of Hosts ! the praise is Thine. 
The purchased prize, the ransomed shrine, 
By Thy blest aid was won ; Thy ear 



2 8 Beside the Western Sea. 

Heard the deep wail of woe and fear, 

And Thou hast dried the mourner's tear. 

My work is done, my prayer is heard : . 

The heart that trusted in Thy word 

Was not deceived. And now 1 go. 

To bid the grateful tear-drop flow 

Upon that fair and favored earth 

Thy blood redeemed from blight and dearth. 

O that my soul might win release 

Within this home of love and peace, 

And, all her earthly fetters riven. 

Rise from Thy sepulchre to heaven ! 

\Exit. 

Enter the Crusaders^ in procession, singing tJie Te 

Deum. 
All exclaim. — Hail, Holy City ! Hail, Jerusalem ! 

Godfrey enters, attended by RAYMOND, Tancred, 
and Baldwin. 

All shout. — Long live Duke Godfrey, and our 
noble chiefs ! 

Godfrey. — O brave Crusaders ! with o'erflowing 
hearts 
We here return your greeting. 'Tis a time 
For holy joy and blissful gratitude. 
Lo ! the rich recompense of all our toils — 
Jerusalem, with all her treasures fair, 
Her blest associations, her rich store 
Of holy memories and hallowed scenes ! 
'Tis bright reality ; at last, at last, 
This glowing prize that mocked our eyes so long, 



The Cross ajtd the Cresceftt. 29 

Like false illusion of the desert waste, 

Which showeth crystal streams and waving trees 

And blooming Edens, and serene retreats, 

Unto the weary pilgrim ; and while he, 

Eager and hopeful, quickens his faint steps 

To reach his rest, the mocking phantom false 

Flies on before, yet ever seemeth near : 

But now the true oasis shines at last, 

And we have reached its blessed boundary. 

Error is checked. Her vile, polluting hand 

Removed from fair religion's holy shrines — 

From dungeons foul, from weary servitude. 

The Christians issue, as the mourning band 

Came from the hateful bonds of Babylon. 

Enter SiMON the Patriarch, zvith a throng of 

Christians. 

Simon. — Ay, noble knight ! they come, a grate- 
ful throng, 
To thank their brave deliverers — to bid 
Heaven's choicest benedictions rest on those 
Whose valiant arms have won their blest release. 
Long had the Christians' tears of anguish flowed 
On the sad spot where once a Saviour wept ; 
Long had the heart-wrung pray'r and weary sigh 
Wafted to heaven their history of woe, 
And, with the eloquence of agony 
For aid and comfort, and the full redress 
That heaven hath promised for the wrongs of earth, 
Pleaded unceasingly. Long, long deferred 
Was the blest answer, and the needed aid — 
But now 'tis won. O blessed be His name 



30 Beside the Western Sea. 

Who, as He armed the Israelites of old 

With strength and valor 'gainst their pagan foes, 

Hath armed the faithful soldiers of the cross, 

And caused their triumph o'er that dreaded race 

Who strive, by fearful threat and cruel spear, 

To win unwilling homage — to extend 

Their erring Prophet's false, ferocious creed. 

Godfrey. — O reverend patriarch ! the unworthy 
chief 
Of the Crusaders humbly bows to thee, 
The shepherd true of Zion's Christian flock, 
And faithful minister of that dear Lord 
Who won our life on yonder barren height. 

All exclaim. — Hail, holy patriarch of Jerusalem! 

Simon. — Permit me, noble knights, to utter now 
The fond petition of my brethren here : 
That from your dauntless band ye would select 
A ruler for Jerusalem — a king 
O'er the new realm your bravery hath won. 
The just enforcement of the laws, the weal 
And safety of our city, now demand 
A monarch just, beneficent, and wise. 

Tancred. — Ay, holy patriarch, th/ prayer is well. 
And, for that dignity, none, none on earth 
Is more deserving, or hath firmer hand 
To wield the sceptre ; or a nobler brow 
To wear a sovereign's diadem of power, 
Than our loved leader, Godfrey of Lorraine ! 

Raymond. — Well hast thou spoken, Tancred ! 
From m}^ soul 
1 echo all thy words I Though he would check 
The voice that in his presence praiseth him, 



The Cross and the Crescent. 31 

Yet will I say, that, if unsullied life, 
Valor and justice, tender charity. 
And every peerless grace that, as a robe, 
Is worn upon a Christian warrior's heart. 
Render their owner worthy of a throne. 
Then is Duke Godfrey in his fitting place, 
Were he the ruler of a world-wide realm ! 

SiiMON. — Most noble duke, I pray thee to accept 
The dignity for which, with one accord, 
Thv lollowers do pronounce thee worthy. Ay, 
Let not humility bid thee reject 
A station which thy duty to the realm 
Thine arm hath helped to conquer, and thy zeal, 
As faithful Christian, for religion's w^eal. 
Would urge thee now to fill. 

Godfrey. — Revered 

And holy patriarch, and too partial friends, 
111 do 1 merit your so lavish praise ; 
And all unworthy am I of that throne 
Your friendship Avould confer. Yet, in the name 
Of duty as a Christian and a knight 
Whose arm hath lent its weak, yet willing, aid. 
In our blest triumph, unto this fair realm — 
The casket oi so many priceless gems, 
Those holy shrines, that must be guarded well — 
I do accept, with humble, grateful heart, 
The government of loved Jerusalem ; 
And, in my urgent need, I now implore 
Your potent prayers, that I may win the boon 
Of grace to be most faithful to my trust, 
And make my reign, as reigns should ever be: 
Useful to earth, and blest by well-served heaven. 



32 Beside the Western Sea. 

Baldwin. — Beloved leader ! let my willing knee 
Be first to bend to our new sovereign ; 
And let my voice salute thee with the words 
It shall repeat, when, on thy brow benign, 
Our patriarch shall place the jewelled crown : 
Hail! hail to Godfrey, our most worthy king ! 

All repeat. — Hail ! hail to Godfrey, our most 
worthy king ! 

Godfrey. — Ah ! noble comrades ! do not bid 
me wear 
A sceptre here, or jewelled diadem : 
My hand shall never grasp a golden rod 
Where my dear Lord's once bore the mocking reed. 
Upon this brow no costly crown shall gleam, 
Where He hath worn a diadem of thorns. 
The name of monarch, even, is too much 
Here, in this city of the cross-throned King. 
And now, to render fitting thanks to Him 
Who gave the victory — who well may claim 
The fond Crusaders' heartfelt 2:ratitude — 
Let us unto His sacred tomb repair, 
As humble penitents ; and as He wept 
O'er human sins, when that glad multitude 
Strewed royal palms in His triumphal way. 
So, even in our glad, victorious march. 
Let us bemoan the guilt that twined His brow 
With cruel thorns, and bade our King repose 
Upon a throne of matchless agony. 
'Twas by a wondrous chance, upon the day, 
E'en at the self- same hour of that strange scene — 
The man-God's saving death on Calvary — 
That this new triumph of the cross was won ; 



The Cross and the Crescent. 1^2) 

'Tis meet, then, that another triumph now — 
The contrite sorrow of our humble hearts — 
Should here be gained by that most blessed cross, 
Where first it rose on favored Calvary. 
'Tis fitting, too, that thou, O patriarch ! 
Shouldst guide thy newly-chosen followers 
Unto that shrine where oft thy earnest prayer 
Hath pleaded for the coming of this day 
Of cloudless joy and blest deliverance. 
Lead, then, this humble train of penitents 
To the dear tomb of their triumphant Lord, 
That they, with grateful hearts, may mingle there 
The tear for foul offences with their glad 
And deep thanksgiving for the victory 
That bade the Crescent's false and lurid glare 
Pale in the light of Truth's resplendent Cross ! 

\Exeunt oinnes. 



EPILOGUE 



TO THE DRAMA OF 



THE CROSS AND THE CRESCENT. 



Thus valiant knights a noble conquest made, 
And closed triumphantly their First Crusade ; 
Redressed the wrong, and reared the holy sign 
Above the rescued realm of Palestine. 
Godfrey, whose virtues hist'ry loves to tell, 
Ruled that fair clime, and watched its treasures 

well ; 
Yet, when his noble life at last was given 
Back to its God, to find its crown in heaven, 
Again the cloud grew dark above the land, 
So long sustained by his victorious hand ; 
Again the paynim scymitar of dread 
Flashed in proud triumph where the Christians 

bled. 
From Clairvaux's abbey sainted Bernard came, 
And, in Religion's cause and Mercy's name. 
Bade the brave heart and strength-invested hand 
Battle once more for Faith's beloved land. 
Again that sacred summons was obeyed. 
Again they gathered for a new Crusade ; 
And, through alternate victory and loss, 
Waged the just warfare of the holy cross. 



The Cross and the Crescent. 35 

Long years fled by, and still the strife went on — 
Fame tells the deeds of those bright ages gone, 
And shows the Lion Heart's victorious name. 
That to the Saracen such dread became, 
The Moslem mother by it hushed her child, 
And horsemen checked the charger foaming wild 
Yet, while she smiles o'er many a conquest made, 
Fame mourns the losses of the last Crusade ; 
But smiles again, as cheeringly she shows 
Full many a triumph even in that close. 
Error was checked — the Moslem's dreaded lance 
No more toward bright Europe dared advance ; 
And fair concessions, gladly granted, gave 
Freedom to those who sought their Saviour's grave. 
For, the proud Saracen no longer chose 
To battle 'gainst such hydra-headed foes ; 
And, though victorious, had been taught to fear 
The Christian sword that so long matched his 

spear. 
Fair Science, too, had many a triumph won, 
Before the battles of the cross were done : 
The pilgrim scholar added to his store 
Arabia's tongue, and Syria's starry lore ; 
New halls of learning rose and flourished fair, 
Watched well by those whose throne was Peter's 

chair. 
There pale-browed students found an endless feast, 
'Mid the rich treasures gathered in the East. 
The needle guide, that seeks the northern star, 
First proved its value in the holy war, 
And led, at last, the sons of smiling Spain 
To the new empire, o'er the Western main. 



o 



6 Beside the Western Sea. 



And commerce, too, could bid her strength expand, 
By the new intercourse with Eastern land 
Then Venice rose, proud sovereign of the sea 
And ruled the world bv laden ars^osv. 
Then, in the shining leaf from Syria brought, 
Its "costly shroud the patient silk-worm wrought; 
And, torn from Eastern soil, the slender cane 
Transferred its nectar to Italia's plain. 
Another triumph Europe's realms had won 
Ere the Crusaders' noble work was done : 
The savage warfare 'gainst whose guilty reign 
Religion's ministers long strove in vain — 
The Cain-like strife, when, in unchristian feud. 
Fierce knights their hands in brothers' blood 

imbrued ; — 
This died at last, when, linked in friendship's band. 
The Christian army sought the Holy Land, 
And Europe saw her direst evil cease, 
When feudal lords were clasped in bonds of peace. 
So came this good from the dread hand of war — 
Well worth renown such noble triumphs are. 
Ah ! cold contempt should never cast her shade 
On those who battled in each just Crusade ; 
Who, bound by knightly vow to right the wrong, 
For Faith and Freedom struggled well and long, 
And, through alternate victory and loss, 
Still bade the Crescent bend before the Cross. 



THE SIEGE OF GRANADA. 



THE SIEGE OF GRANADA, 



A DRAMATIC POEM. 



PERSONAGES:— 

Aben Hassan, the Moorish King. 

BOABDIL, his Son, 

Ferdinand, King of Spain. 

Don Juan de Vera, Christian Envoy 

A BD ALL AH, Moorish Pri^ne Minister. 

Mahmoud, } ^'""''''' Courtiers. 

A San ton, or Moorish Prophet. 

Isabella, Queen of Spain. 

Dona Inez, ) 

Dona Catalina, f ^^^^^^ of Honor to Isabella. 

Ayesha, Mother of Boabdil. 

MORAYMA, Wife of Boabdil. 

ZORAYA, Wife of Aben Hassan. 

Maria, a Christian Captive. 

Zara, ) ^ , , . 7 

■p j- Ayesha s Attendants. 



The Siege of Granada: 

A DRAMATIC POEM. 



ACT I. 



Scene I. — An apartment in the Alhambra. The 
Moorish King, Abex Hassan {solus). 
Aben Hassan. — My soul is weary of this listless life, 
* And loathes the quiet of its gilded cage ; 

for the charger's neigh, the din of strife. 
The trumpet pealing 'mid the battle's rage ! 

This is the warrior's music, these the strains, 
For which 1 pine in idle bondage here, — 

Ay, bondage base, though formed of silken chains. 
In sculptured halls, than dungeon far more drear, 

1 pace the broad and tesselated floor. 

And dream of fields bedewed with Christian 
blood ; 
My flashing scymitar seems red with gore, 

Cleaving its pathway through the fancied flood. 
I wake, to curse the idle peace that reigns 

O'er spacious gallery and decked saloon ; 
To bid the minstrels cease their drowsy strains, 

And chide the tinkling foimtain for its tune. 
My carpet courtiers, broidered, decked, and bhand, 

With snowv fingers pluck the sill\' flowers, 



40 Beside the Western . Sea, 

Or praise the beauty of this goodly land, 

Its verdant fields, its vineyards, and its bowers. 
And they are very brave in mimic war — 

In joust and tournament well skilled and bold ; 
Of peaceful chivalry the boast, the star, 

By ladies praised, and decked with scarfs of gold. 
But I will try their bravery ere long — 

Ay, I will lead them to a nobler strife. 
Rouse, unscarred heroes, rouse, ye valiant throng ! 

I'll bring rare changes o'er your lazy life. 

Enter Abdallah. 

Aben Hassan {starting). — Ha! who intrudes? 
Abdallah, is it thou? 
May not the monarch of this mighty realm 
Be left one hour in peace? Hence, hence, retire ! 

Abdallah. — O gracious sov'reign ! Allah's 
favored son. 
Benignant ruler o'er earth's fairest clime, 
Long may thy royal presence bless this throne ! 
Long may thine eyes illume these sacred halls I 

Aben Hassan. — Enough of adulation ! If thou 
hast 
Some trifling message, or wouldst beg a boon, 
Speak quickly, and withdraw ! 

Abdallah. — • Thy prostrate slave 

Kisses the dust beneath his master's feet, 
To thank this condescension, for he has 
A weighty message for th}^ royal ear. 
And craves a boon of thy rich clemency — 
But 'tis not for himself. The wily king 
Who rules the Christian dogs in fair Castile, 



The Siege cf Granada. 41 

Hath hither sent a haughty train of knights, 
On special embassy. An hour since 
The throng arrived, in glitt'ring armor dight, 
Their steeds caparisoned with cloth of gold. 
Sooth, 'twas a goodly sight ! and as they pranced 
In pompous silence through the quiet town, 
The wondVing citizens stood fixed and mute. 
In stupid admiration. That proud knight, 
Don Juan De Vera, envoy of Castile, 
And noble leader of this courtly troop. 
Now in the royal antechamber waits. 
And craves an audience. 

Aben Hassan. — Allah ! sav vou sor 

On special embassy? Nay, this is strange I 
Castilian monarchs are not wont to send 
Their pompous envoys to our Moslem court. 
I read the riddle: 'Tissome cunning scheme 
Of that proud plotter, Ferdinand. In sooth 
His insolence shall find as bold retort. 
For Aben Hassan is no crouching slave. 
Give cordial greeting to Don Juan, and say, 
The Caliph grants him audience, and awaits 
His coming, here. But summon, first, two knights. 
Two trusty servants, that some show of state 
May honor the occasion. Then attend, 
Thyself, the knight unto our presence. Go ! 

{^Exit Abdallah. 

Aben Hassan {solus). — Now may our holy 
Prophet aid me I How I long 
To fling defiance m the very teeth 
Oi these proud Christians and their wily king ! 
Well can I guess their errand. Ere I pay 



42 Beside the Western Sea. 

The servile tribute wrung from craven hearts, 
This thirsty scymitar shall drink deep draughts 
Of unbelievers' blood. I dreamed of war : 
May Allah and his holy Prophet grant 
Its swift and sure fulfilment! 

Enter tico Moorish knights. 

Knights {together).— Hail to thee, 

Commander of the faithful ! Death to all 
Who dare oppose thy heaven-directed will ! 

Aben Hassan. — Ay, death indeed! stern, unre- 
lenting death ! 
Behold your places, knights ! quick to your posts ! 
I hear the footsteps of our Christian guest. 

Enter Abdallah, with DoN Juan. 

Abdallah. — Long live our Caliph ! May those 
royal eyes 
Look down with favor on the prostrate slave 
Who here presents, obedient to thy will, 
Don Juan de Vera, envoy of Castile. 

[Don Juan, advancing and sinking o?t 
one knee, 
Don Juan. — Permit me, august monarch, in the 
name 
Of my most gracious sovereigns, Ferdinand 
And royal Isabella, of Castile, 
To offer greeting courteous unto thee ! 
Aben Hassan. — Rise, noble knight ! Granada's 
king returns 
The royal greeting, with profoundest thanks 
For the kind courtesv of Castile's lord, 



The Siege of Granada. 43 

And his right regal spouse. Thy presence here, 

Most worthy cavalier, is honor more. 

Far more, than we could claim. It well rebukes 

Our own neglect of courtly etiquette. 

For which we crave our royal neighbor's grace. • 

Our Vizier hath informed us, noble knight. 

That thou art come on special embassy : 

Make known thy errand. Our unworthy ears 

Are open to thy words : speak, then, sir knight ! 

Don Juan. — Thy will is potent, O most gracious 
king ! 
And claims a prompt obedience. I have come, 
Commissioned by my sov'reigns, to demand 
Full liquidation for the long arrears 
Of tribute-money which Granada's kings 
So justly owe the rulers of Castile. 
This is my embassy. 

Aben Hassan. — And ^'/^/^ my reply : 

Go, tell thy masters that the craven kings 
Who made that compact, and were wont to pay 
To the Castilian crown the servile sum. 
Are, thanks to Allah, mould'ring in their graves ! 
Now, the sole coinage of our Moorish mints 
Are blades of scy7nitars and lances' heads ! 

Don Juan {aside). — Presumptuous infidel ! would 
I might give 
The fitting punishment for those bold words ! 
But slumber yet, good lance ! The time will come. 
{Aloud.) Thy will is potent, and shall be obeyed 
With scrupulous exactness. May I now 
Take courteous leave of fair Granada's court? 



44 Beside the Western Sea. 

Aben Hassan. — Nay, nay, most noble knight! 
Thou art our guest, 
And we would show thee how the iNIoslem king 
Can practise hospitality most meet 
.For our good neighbor's envoy. We implore 
ijThat thou wilt honor till the morn, at least, 
Our grateful court. Abdallah, in thy charge 
We leave our noble visitor ; see, then. 
That he be honored as befits his rank. 
And now receive, most worthy cavalier, 
As testimonial of our deep regard, 
i\nd true appreciation of thy brave 
And knightly seeming, this fair scymitar 
Of best Damascus steel. 

Don Juan. — Most humble thanks, 

gracious monarch ! for the regal gift. 
He whom thou honorest thus, albeit he is 
Most undeserving, ventures yet to hope 

That this tried arm may, one day,' give good proof 

Unto the royal donor of its skill 

In. wielding this good weapon. Sire, adieu ! 

1 kiss th}^ gracious hand. 

{Exeunt DON JUAN ajid Abdallah, /<?/- 
lowed by tJie two knights. 
Aben Hassan (so/ics.) — Now, by the Prophet's 

sword, 1 like that speech ! 
It hath the ring of true and trusty steel. 

favored king, who hast within thy reach 
Such matchless souls, so valiant, true, and leal ! 

1 long, brave knight, to cross a lance with thine. 
To meet thee, hand-to-hand, in deadly strife — 



TJie Siege of Granada. 45 

And soon the joy I covet may be mine; 

Soon may I know the free campaigner's life, 
For my bold words will rouse yon haughty king, 

And call his courtly followers to arms. 
Soon to the breeze m}^ banner will I fling. 

And leave this dull Alhambra's drowsy charms; 
The battle-cry will greet my longing ear : 

'' Allah ! il Allah !" 'tis a thrilling strain ! 
'Twill bid the Christian shrink in very fear, 

And fill his heart with strange, foreboding pain. 
But twilight deepens ; from 3-011 minaret 

Sounds the muezzin's lazy call to prayer. 
Hence, warlike visions, for a season vet — 

Now to the mosque, blithe-hearted, 1 repair. 



Scene II. — An apartment in the Palace of Cordova. 
Dona Inez and Dona Catalina, two of Queen 
Isabella's maids of Jwnor, are seated at their em- 
broidery. 

Dona Inez. — Now, of a certainty, our gracious 
queen 
Is ill in mind. Did'st note her altered mood, 
So anxious and so absent — pacing now 
The echoing floor with quick, uncertain steps ; 
Then stopping short, as if she fain would chide 
Her own strange restlessness, and sinking back 
Into her seat with such a weary air, 
And sighs so deep they pierced my very soul? 
Then taking up yon piece of tapestr3\ 
She feigned to broider, but I saw the tears 



46 Beside the . Wester7i Sea. 

Descend like rain upon the glowing- tints 

Her trembling fingers crushed. At last she raised 

Her drooping head, and met my wond'ring gaze. 

A startled flush o'erspread her face, and then 

She rose up swiftly, as in sudden haste, 

And quitted the apartment. Verily, 

These royal lives are full of cark and care , 

And princely diadems too oft, I ween. 

Hide cruel thorns beneath their flashing gems 

To wound the wearer's brow. What say est thou '^ 

Dona Catalina. — Thou speakest truh-, Inez, but 
the grief 
That presses now on our dear lady's soul, 
Her subjects should partake, for 'tis their grief 
Her mother-heart bewails. 

Inez.— Na}^ Dona, now 

Thy words are riddles. Prithee, then, explain.^ 
Of all that hath transpired at the court. 
Or in this goodly kingdom, while my long 
And grievous illness lasted, I could have 
No knowledge, as thou knowest. Tell me, then, 
What means this trouble ? Famine, plague, or war — 
Or all, mavhap, combined? 

Catalina. — Ay, more than all ! 

If that may be. But cease thy jesting tone ; 
It suits but ill the grave and gloomy theme : 
Late yester-night a courier arrived, 
A jaded horseman, haggard, wan, and sad. 
From far Zahara ; and the news he brought 
Might well bring sorrow to a sov'reign's heart. 
Good angels guard us! 'twas a dismal tale ! 
Its fearful horrors froze my ver}- soul. 



The Siege of Granada. 47 

IXEZ. — What of Zahara ? Say not she hath fall'ii 
Beneath the cruel swords of infidels ? 

Catalina. — Ay, even so. Her guardians, too 
secure 
In the tried firmness of her rock-hke wall, 
Were wrapped in slumber. E'en the sentinels 
Slept on their posts, nor dreamed of lurking harm. 
But, in the midnight's fav'ring gloom and hush. 
The fierce marauders left their ambuscade. 
And scaled, with wary skill and noiseless haste, 
E'en the proud summit of the lofty wall. 
The drowsy guards awakened, then, to die ; 
And throusfh the fortress and the fated town 
Soon ranof that fearful cry, "The Moors! the 

Moors!" 
Too late the startled soldiers buckled on 
Their armor strong, and seized their shining blades. 
Too late ! alas, too late ! though well and long 
They battled for their honor and their homes. 
But the fierce foe, within their very hearths, 
Had gained strong foothold, nor relaxed his grasp, 
Till, o'er the prostrate forms of Christian knights. 
He strode to triumph and to victory. 
Ah ! who can paint the horrors of that scene, 
Or know the agony of helpless hearts. 
When the broad streets ran red with Christian blood, 
And Christian shrieks of anofuish blended with 
The frightful war-cry of the fiendish Moors? 
Now, in fierce triumph, o'er those conquered walls 
The hated crescent waves. In dungeons deep 
The Christian captives pine, or, — fearful fate! — 
Are dragged to proud Granada's capital, 
To serve as slaves for their stern conquerors. 



48 Beside the Westerji Sea. 

Inez. — O pitying heaven ! 'tis a fearful tale, 
And bids us crv, " How long^, O Lord ! how Ion": " 
Shall these thino:s be? How Ions; shall Moslem 

taint 
Pollute the balmy air of Christian Spain ? 

Dona Catalina. — The end nmst come. Hath 
not our God declared 
Vengeance is His, and He will well repay? 

Enter Queen Isabella. 

Isabella. — Your pardon, noble ladies. 'Tis a day 
For earnest thought, and we would be alone. 

\_Exeiuit maids of Jionor. 

Isabella (solus). — Alas, Zahara ! can the care- 
less smile 

Live on my lips, and thine be pale with pain? 
Can I rejoice in heartless splendor, while 

Thy bravest sons are lying, basely slain ? 
Ay ! shall thy queen be calm, while dungeons deep 

Echo the Christian captive's wail of woe ? 
No I bleeding hearts, and eyes that wildly weep, 

Your griefs are mine ! for you my tears shall flow. 
All night I knelt before the holy shrine. 

With hands upraised, in agony of praj^er, 
That our just God would aid this arm of mine 

From my loved realm its hated pall to tear. 
Thou Lord Omnipotent ! how long, how long, 

Shall helpless virtue yield to demon might ? 
Behold, avenging justice ! how the wrong, 

Haughty and fierce, hath trampled on the right ! 
How godless hands destroy the sacred shrine, 

And bind Thy chosen land in error's chain I 



The Siege of Granada. 49 

O check this outrage bv Thy power divine. 
Aid Thy unworthy child to save her Spain ! 

Thou wilt hear! My prayer shall granted be! 
I may retrieve this sad, this fearful, loss : 

Soon from her bonds my kingdom I may free : 
Soon shall the Crescent bow before the Cross. 

Enter Ferdinand. 

Ferdinand. — What holy dream, what ecstasy is 
this ? 
Good faith, my gentle queen, thou art inspired ! 
There beams such radiance from thy soulful eyes, 
There dwells such strength of purpose on thy brow, 
Such calm determination on thy lips ! 
And yet, methinks, thy cheeks are stained with tears, 
As if thy soul had battled with the storm, 
And bravely conquered 

Isabella {smiling).— Even so, my liege. 

But, if I read thy troubled mien aright. 
That frowning brow, that restless, clouded look. 
Tell that the storm still rages in thy heart. 

Ferdinand. — I render homage to thy skill, fair 
queen ! 
Well hast thou read my chafed and troubled soul. 
Twas the war-kindling tale of y ester-night 
That roused this tempest in my slumb'ring heart; 
That bids me grasp my good Castilian blade. 
And force yon haughty Moor to rue the day 
He made this base, this robber-like assault : 
It shall bring ruin on his realm and throne. 

1 vowed revenge when his bold message came — 
His haughty answer to our just demand — 



50 Beside the Western Sea. 

But now the cup o'erfloweth. By my crown, 
Yon fiend shall drain it ; yet my angry mood 
Will bid me act too rashly. Give me, now, 
Thy prudent council, thy sagacious plans — 
What say est thou to war? 

Isabella. — 'Tis best, 'tis just: 

A heavenly voice hath whispered to my soul, 
In answer to my prayer. It bids us haste 
To cleanse this plague-spot from Granada's heart ; 
It bids us arm for quick^ ay, instant war. 
Yet not for love of conquest, or revenge, 
But that the Christian captive ma}^ be free 
From Moorish thraldom ; that the fatal bhght 
Of vile, unhallowed hands no more pollute 
With impious rites the consecrated shrine — 
The Crescent fierce no more insult the Cross ; 
That demon power be taught to own its God, 
And cease its bold defiance of His will. 
Ay, we must haste to war — God wills it so. 

Ferdinand. — Come, then ; let thy enthusiasm 
rouse 
These valiant knights, who, in our audience-hall, 
Are waiting thy decision. Purify, 
With these thy holy motives, all base thoughts 
Of plunder or of vengeance. Let us go. 

[Exeunt. 



The Siege of Granada. 5 1 

Scene III. — Ayesha and Boabdil, in aji apart- 
vient of the Moorish palace. 

Ayesha.— Dare I advise rebellion 'gainst thy sire? 
Was that thy question, faint heart? Listen, then, 
And mark my answer well: 1 do advise, 
Ay, and command it, too. Yon sceptred brute. 
Thy fierce, unnatural father, is not worth 
A son's esteem, much less submissive love. 
His meanest subject loathes the tj-rant's name, 
And mutters curses on his blood-stained hand. 
And shall we bow in vile allegiance here — 
I, his insulted spouse, his outraged queen, 
And thou? Bethink thee, trembler, who thou art: 
His lawful heir, Granada's destined king ! 
Yon throne is thine ! From his unworthy brow 
Thy power could tear the crown ! Then why delay 
To claim thy true inheritance? Is't fear 
That binds thee here, a helpless looker-on, ■ 
While I, who cherished thee, am mocked and 

scorned 
For a vile Christian slave? Say, canst thou yield 
Thy goodly realm to her usurping brood ? 

Boabdil. — Nay, cease these taunts, my mother! 
'Tis not fear 
That bids me yield obedience to my sire — 
I am no coward, as thou knowest well ; 
And his stern cruelty hath long since crushed 
From my young heart the last faint spark of love 
Which nature's hand, in childhood, kindled there.' 
I long to crush this vile Zoraya's schemes. 
And blight the hopes she dares to cherish, yet 
My heart assures me 'tis no fitting time 



52 



Beside the Western Sea. 



For this bold step. He hath a mighty host 
At his command ; and that dark prophecy 
That hangeth o'er me Uke a blighting curse— 
O'er all Granada 'tis a household word, 
And b}' the very children 1 am called 
Boabdil the Unlucky. Ah, my fate ! 

Ayesha. — x\nd thou wiJt let these superstitious 
fears 
Fetter thy hands, and palsy thy young soul ? 
Now, out upon thee for such cowardice ! 
Fate ! senseless word ! I scorn its very sound ! 
The warrior's sword and dauntless lion-heart 
Carve out the onh' destiny I own. 
The stupid prate of vile astrologers 
May do for silly peasants : princely hearts 
Should laugh at such delusions. Say'st thou, too, 
That 'tis no fitting time to claim thy rights? 
Why, Allah never gave a rarer chance — 
Success is sure. Thy father's rash attack 
Upon Zahara is rich boon for thee. 
But woe for him. Yon wil}^ Christian king. 
Roused by the outrage, hath repaid it well, 
As sad Alhama's graves can testify. 
War with Castile, ay, long and deadly war, 
Is now inevitable. It must come ; 
And Hassan's subjects, maddened by the woes 
His pride hath heaped upon them, boldly give 
Free vent to their deep hate. Canst thou not hear. 
On everj^ side, the fierce and boding sounds 
Of execrations, bold, and loud, and deep ? 
But listen well, Boabdil ! I have caught. 
Amid their threats, the glad, the welcome, tones 



TJie Siege of Granada. 53 

Of blessing-s coupled with thy name. Fond eyes 
Look pleadingly to thee, and valiant hearts, 
Eager and true, are ready, at thy call. 
To join thy royal standard. Hasten, then ! 
Aveno^e tJieir wrons^s and tJiine ! 

BOABDIL. — I will ! I will ! 

My lion-hearted mother, thy brave words 
Have roused my soul to new, to nobler life. 
I ivill obey thee. This good sword shall cleave 
A glorious path to fair Granada's throne. 
And, firmly seated there, I will redress 
Thy injuries, brave mother. Once again 
Unchecked, unrivalled, thou shalt proudly bear 
Thy rightful name : Sultana. 

Ayesha. — Thanks, my son ! 

But calm thy youthful joy. E'en walls have ears 
And tongues to utter treason. Hark, a step ! 
It is thy father's heavy, cruel tread. 
Thus walks he proudly o'er his subjects' hearts. 
Let us away ! The t3"rant's eye nla}^ read 
Our secrets on our brows. In sooth, my son, 
He fears, each day, the trampled worms may turn 
To sting the heel that crushes them. Away ! 

\Exeunt. 

E7zter Aben Hassan. 

Aben Hassan. — Woe, woe, Alhama! O that 

madd'ning cry ! 
That fierce outpouring of a wild despair ! 
It rings where'er I turn. In ev'ry eye 

Hate, hke a savage beast, doth boldly glare — 



54- Beside the Western Sea. 

My people's hate ! Their curses, loud and deep, 

Sound in my ear, like mutterings of a storm ; 
Their anger rouses from its long, forced sleep, 

And boldly rears its fierce, defiant form. 
And wherefore? Ah I in characters of blood 

The dread reply is written on my soul. 
My rash ambition hath unsealed the flood 

Which o'er my realm, too soon, will madly roll. 
O Christian king ! thou hast avenged full well 

The wrongs of thy Zahara — woe for woe. 
On my Alhama's heart thy lightning fell, 

And crushed her life beneath its fatal blow ; 
But think not I will tremble. Let it come — 

This dreaded war. It was my daily dream, 
And shall I shrink? Shall terror make me dumb 

When the storms burst, the wdshed-for lightnings 
gleam ? 
Perish the coward thought ! O traitor throng, 

Who dare to curs eyour monarch I Ye shall know 
My will is iron, and my sword is strong. 

To crush the rebel, and to quell the foe. 

[ Turning suddenly, A noise without. 
Ha ! whence this uproar? Silence, there, without'. 
Who dares disturb the king? 

Efiter the Saxton, strugglhig with the guards. 

Santon {to the guards). — ^ Detain me not ! I'll beard 

the lion in his very den ! 
Aben Hassan {starting back). — Demon, avaunt ! 
hence, foul and hideous fiend ! 
Or, stay — Ben Hassan is no trembling loon. 
By what vile incantation art thou here? 
What sorcerer's art conjured thee? Demon, speak ! 



The Siege of Granada, 55 

Santon. — I am no slave of sorcery, no restless 
fiend of air — 
This frame is worn by holy fasts, and sanctified by 

prayer ; 
It is no demon fire that burns within these aged 

eyes — 
They caught the light from Allah's throne, while 
gazing on the skies. 

Within the wildest mountain glen, 

Full forty years, and more, 
I've heard the holy Prophet's voice, 

And learned his sacred lore ; 
And oft in waking dreams by day, 

And visions of the night, 
The pageants of the busy world 
Have passed before my sight. 
Aben Hassan {aside), — A crazed enthusiast, 
whose wildered brain 
Hath urged him here, to read his monarch's fate. 
[Aloud) — Reveal thy inspirations ; doubtless we 
Have played conspicuous part in these strange 
dreams. 
Santon. — Aye ! I will read m}^ dreams, O king ! 
The Santon knows not fear ; 
He will not quail before thy frown, 

Nor heed thy haughty sneer; 
And while I bid my visions rise 

Before thy royal view. 
Look on the magic picture well. 

And say if it be true. 
My dream was of a lordly town, 
I saw its towers rise ; 



j6 Beside the Western Sea. 

Each turret rear'd its frowning brow, 

To meet the arching- skies. 
I looked within the stately walls — ■ 

Ah ! rich, I ween, and fair, 
Was the proud city of the plain, 

That nestled calmly there. 
That city glowed with wealth and life; 

I heard, in every street, 
The eager sound of many tongues, 

The tramp of many feet ; -^ 

And I blessed its stately palaces, 

Its gardens of dehght, 
Bedecked with sparkling fountains, and 

With blossoms rare and bright. 
The picture passed, the night came on ; 

A wild, a fearful wail^ 
A cry it pierced my soul to hear — 

Was borne upon the gale ; 
Once more I turned my startled eyes 

On that fair town, and lo ! 
I saw its massive towers rent. 

As by the lightning's blow ; 
I saw its stately homes despoiled. 

And on the ravaged plain 
The bravest of its cavaliers 

Were 1} ing, foully slain. 
The Cross was waving where, so late, 

I blessed the Crescent's gleam — 
Aye, writhe upon thy throne, O king ! 

And read my faithful dream. 
Aben Hassan. — Thy vision, Santon, is not hard 
to read. 



The Siege of Granada. 57 

Ha ! ha ! thou art a prophet of the past ! 
Thy brain is crazed. What are its dreams to me? 
Santon. — Within a dungeon's cell I saw 
The Moslem captives pine ; 
I heard them curse a tyrant's name ! 

And list — that name was thine ! 
They said the peace was broken by 

Thy fierce and haughty hand ; 
Thy pride had brought this flood of war, 
To desolate thy land. 
Aben Hassan. — Ha! says'tthouso? Nay, Hsten 
in thy turn. 
I Jiave invoked this war ! It was viy dream — 
My dream of glory and of endless fame ! 
And it sJiall be fulfilled ! Ay, though a host 
Of wild fanatics and their trembling dupes 
Heaped threats and curses, high as yonder mount, 
Upon my careless head. I laugh to scorn 
Thy senseless words, thy prophecies of ill. 
Santon. — Then hear, thou impious tyrant, 
My dream of future woe. 
E'en as our fair Alhama sunk 

Before the Christian foe, 
So shall this regal city fall, 

In terror and in gloom ; 
So shall this Vega rich become 

The patriot's bloody tomb. 
Woe to this fair Alhambra — 
The palace of thy pride — 
For, o'er its tesselated floors, 
A conqu'ring host shall stride. 



5S Beside the Western Sea. 

The Christian king- shall rule within 

These gay and gilded halls, 
The Christian banner proudly \vave 

Above its massive walls. 
For Allah's wrath is kindled sore 

Against his traitor son, 
And Allah's vengeance shall repay 

The ruin thou hast done. 
Woe to thee, cursed by heaven, 

And hated by thy race ! 
Scarce shall thy body find on earth 

The meanest burial place. 
By kinsmen's hands thy death shall come, 

And kinsmen's hands shall cast, 
Into a nameless sepulchre. 

Thy haughty form at last. 
Ha ! ha ! thou shrinkest ! Do my words 

Disturb thy kingly state ? 
'Tis well ! the madman's curse shall be 
The dread decree of Fate ! 
Aben Hassan. — O gracious Allah ! must I bear 
these taunts ? 
Cease thy insulting words, and quit mj' sight. 
Or this good lance shall still thy rebel tongue ! 
What! dost thou linger yet? Ho, there, brave 

guards ! 
Seize this bold maniac, and cast him forth, 
And take good care he enter not again. 

Santon. — Thou hast no need to call thy slaves — 
With thee my task is done ; 
But sadder mission yet is mine — 
Stern duty, scarce begun : 



The Siege of Gra7iada. 59 

O'er fields and cities I must roam, 

Still uttering, as 1 go, 
This curse against my native land — 
Woe ! loved Granada, woe ! 

\Exit^ 
Aben Hassan. — Insolent fanatic ! why did I 
permit 
His bold, audacious ravings ? Yet, in sooth, 
Such wild, Vv^eird lustre lurked v/ithin his eye, 
Such magic power, such fascinating skill, 
It bound my kingly soul as by a spell, 
And made me helpless as a trembling bird, 
Neath the bold serpent's gaze ; and though I burned 
With fiercest anger, yet in vain I strove 
To break the charm that held me, or to still 
His bold, presumptuous threats, which now I heed 
As lightl}^ as the wild and wilful blast 
Doth heed the mournful wailing of the boughs 
Whose leaves it hath despoiled. Hark! yet his 

voice 
Sounds in the outer court. This must not be ; 
His demon art will pour into the minds 
Of my retainers poison, that ma\^ prove 
A deadly blight to their weak loyalty. 
Now will I burst, like the fierce mountain storm, 
On this false prophet, and, despite the looks 
Of horror-stricken vot'ries, this good sword 
Shall send the Santon's soul to paradise. 

\_Exit. 



6o Beside the Western Sea. 

Scene IV. — In the Castle of the Albazoin, after tlie 
report of Boabdil" s death, at the battle of Lucena. 

Ayesha. — Rouse thee, Morayma ! this is vulgar 

grief! 
Hush those wild moans, and check that rain of 

tears ; 
Bind up thy tresses, and compose thyself. 
Such childish sorrow ill befits thy rank— 
Thou art the daughter of a royal line, 
The consort of a prince, and thou should'st leave 
Loud lamentation and dishevelled locks. 
Fierce, frantic gestures — all excess of grief — 
To loAv-born mourners, who have not yet learned 
To curb their stormy passions. Noble hearts 
Must scorn such peasant weakness. Rouse thee, 

then ; 
Put on the armor of thy queenly pride, 
And it will bring thee strength. 

Morayma. — Ah ! can it be 

That thou, the mother of my murdered lord, 
The favored parent of Granada's prince, 
Dost thus upbraid my sorrow ? Hast thou not 
A mother's love for thy most royal son? 
And can thy soul restrain its anguish when, 
From ev'ry heart throughout this stricken land, 
The bitter wail — a nation's mingled woe- — 
Is borne upon the gale? '' Alas !" they cry, 
" Alas ! Boabdil, flower of chivalry, 
Our pride, our hope, the day-star of our souls I 
Thy light hath set in darkness and in blood. 
While yet in its proud zenith I Woe for thee!" 



The Siege of Granada. 6i 

O royal mother ! canst thou yet be calm ? 

canst thou steel thy heart, in high-born pride, 
'Gainst all its fond affections ? Spare me, then ; 
Mock not my grief with cold and heartless words. 
Forgive my w^eakness ; think what bitter cause 

1 have for tears. My consort and my sire, 
Both cold in death on that dread battle-plain ! 
O fearful, madd'ning grief! All, all I love 
Gone from my gaze for ever ! Wretched hearty 
Bleeding at ev'ry throb ! why break'st thou not ? 

Ayesha. — Thou doubt'st my love^ Morayma, for 

my son? 
Thou askest if the mother-love is dead 
Within m)^ heart — if I can count as naught 
The fearful loss that fills thv heart w^ith woe? 
Thou art unjust. Have I not shielded him 
From 3'on fierce tyrant's wrath ? Did not these 

arms 
Cherish and fondly circle his 3^oung form, 
When dangers threatened helpless infancy? 
And as he grew^ in every manly grace, 
Did not my mother-heart beat high with pride? 
Oft have I w^atched, with eager, glist'ning eyes, 
His knightly bearing in the brilliant joust ; 
And as he bore away the well-earned prize 
Amid the shouts of thousands, Allah knows 
How my fond heart exulted — how 1 blessed 
All-bounteous heaven for him, its noblest gift. 
And when my treacherous rival, yon vile slave. 
Had spread her snares around his father's heart, 
And fain would win the kingdom for her sons — 
Did I not bid him claim his lawful rights, 



62 Beside the Western Sea. 

And tear the brutal tyrant from a throne 

He was unworth}^ of? Mine were no schemes 

Of vain self-exaltation — all my hopes 

Of pow'r and fame were for my cherished son. 

Ay, when I bade him gather his true band 

Of valiant followers, and hold his court — 

His rival court — here, 'neath the very gaze 

Of his now baffled sire ; and when these hands 

Buckled his armor on, and sent him forth 

To win new laurels for his kingly brow 

In this fierce Christian w^ar, my soul was filled 

With glorious visions of his proud success. 

i saw his enemies beneath his feet, 

Helpless and crushed, and in his native halls 

I saw him reign, a monarch undisturbed 

By treacherous friends or unbelieving foes. 

And thinkst thou, now, my heart is not transfixed 

By keenest dart of anguish, when these hopes 

Lie withered, blasted, like the dying leaves 

The rude blast scatters round us. O my son ! 

My loved Boabdil ! 'Twas a cruel stroke 

That tore thee from me ! Yet, I must restrain 

All unavailing grief. 'Tis Allah wills, 

And we must meekly bow. 

MoRAYMA. — 'Tis vain ! 'tis vain ! 

I cannot give my loved ones up ! Forgive, 
Brave^ noble-minded mother, this wild grief! 
Bear with me yet a little space — the end 
Will shortly come. This wretched heart will break, 
And I shall find, within the peaceful grave, 
My welcome rest. Come, death ! O quickly come ! 



The Siege of Grmiada. 6^ 

Ayesha. — Alas, alas, poor, broken, blighted 
flower ! 
This cruel blast hath crushed its very life. 
Summon the minstrel, Zara. She is fond 
Of the soft lute and tender madrigal. 
Perchance its power may assuage her grief. 

{Exit maid. 

Enter MiNSTREL. — {Lament for Boabdil.) 
O lovely Granada ! I see the glad smile 

Flash o'er thy fair mountains and sunlighted 
plains ; 
Thy fountains laugh softly, yet joyfully, while 

Thy forests reecho the mirth-freighted strains. 
They hail a loved hero, they waft a dear name, 
Afar on the wines of the wanderino^ breeze ; 
They sing of his valor, they herald his fame. 

And the glad notes resound e'en across the 
broad seas. 
That name is Boabdil's — that hero is he 

For whom his Granada looked fondly and long— 
Her king, her deliverer ! Shall he not be 

The light of her proud eyes, the theme of her 
sons:? 
But, list ! ere those echoes have died on the gale, 
The storm-cloud hangs darkly o'er mountain 
and plain ; 
And a wild cry of anguish — a sorrowful wail — 

Succeeds now the notes of her joy-laden strain. 
O lovely Granada! well, well may'st thou weep. 
And shroud thy bright beaut}^ in darkness and 
woe ; 



64 Beside the Western Sea, 

Thy hero is fallen, the foul ravens keep 

Their watch o'er the field where thy monarch 
lies low. 
Woe, w^oe, for Boabdil, our glory, our pride I 

Woe, woe, for the hearts that are sad for his sake ! 
Woe for thee, brave mother, and grief-stricken 
bride ! 
In sorrow, in anguish, these fond hearts must 
break. 

[ M O R A Y M A /^ 2;2 /i-, 

Ayesha {to tJie Mmstrel). — Cease, dotard, cease ! 

Did I not bid thee sins^ 
A joyous strain, to soothe this storm of grief? 
And thou must needs increase it. Cease this wail. 
And quit our sight! {Exit Minstrel.) Poor, 

sorrow-blighted heart ! 
This is a fearful swoon. Haste, maidens, haste. 
Bear her into the garden, near the fount. 
That its cool plashing and the fragrant air 
May woo her back to life. Go, daughter, go, 
And may all-gracious Allah give thee strength ! 

\^Exit MORAYMA, borne by maids of honor. 

Enter MOORISH Cavalier. 
Cavalier. — May't please your Highness, in the 
outer court 
A Christian messenger doth wait. He bore 
This missive from the sovereigns of Castile 
Unto your Highness, and he made me pledge 
My knightly word that I would forthwith give 
The packet safe into your royal hands. 
Its contents are of weighty import : and 



The Siege of Granada, 65 

He bade me tell your Highness, furthermore, 
That he doth crave an answer, and will wait 
Until it please your Highness to reply. 
Ayesha. — A message from Castile ! What mean- 
eth this? {SJie reads ^ then speaks aside}) 

gracious Allah ! May thy name be praised ! 
My son still lives ! But, prudence ! I forget 
Keen eyes are watching me. {Aloud.) Well, Hamet, go 
Conduct the bearer of this grave dispatch 

Into our hall of audience, and say 

Her Highness will receive him there, when she 

Hath studied well his monarchs' courteous words. 

[Exit Hamet. 
Ayesha {solus). — A captive in the hands of Christian 

dogs ! 
Nay, Allah Achbar ! 'tis a dismal chance, 
A grievous insult to our Moslem pride ! 

1 fear this news will chill the loyal faith 
Of our too fickle subjects. All was well 
When they supposed him dead. He was a god, 
A hero, martyred in a holy cause ; 

The nation sunk beneath its weight of woe. 
And raised his name and virtues to the skies. 
That tone will change ; vile hints of cowardice, 
And darkly muttered execrations, will 
Salute my ears to-morrow. And his sire, 
His fierce, unnatural sire, will exult: 
E'en now he thinks his prey within his grasp. 
Base wretch ! he offers ransom, not to save 
His captive son, but to destroy him. Fiend! 
He tells the Christian king it matters not 
Whether his victim be delivered up 



66 Beside the Western Sea. 

Alive or dead ! I thank thee, gentle queen — 
Thou hast a mother's heart. Thou did'st refuse 
This cruel offer. But thy terms are hard : 
A heavy ransom to be paid at once, 
Four hundred Christian slaves to be set free — 
But, to this last demand, I render glad 
And free consent, to thank thy noble heart. 
What more? My son must henceforth hold his 

crown 
As vassal to the Christian monarch. Ah, 
This is too galling ! yet, his safe release 
Cannot be compassed else. Then be it so : 
If Allah send us victory at last, 
The Christian king must humble in his turn ! 
And what is this ? Alas, young stricken heart ! 
My poor Morayma ! thou wilt find it hard 
To give thy infant son, as they demand, 
In liostage for his father. Yet, thy joy 
To know thy dead is risen, and thy lost 
So soon to be restored, will give thee strength 
For any sacrifice, however great. 
Allah be praised ! my noble son is safe ! 
Once more my heart beats high with life and hope. 
What, if his people scorn him ? That will pass. 
His next successful deed will win their hearts. 
Courage, my soul ! Again indulge thy dreams — 
Thy golden dreams of glory and of fame ! 
But I must meet this messenger, and give 
My answer to his sovereign's request. 
It shall be prompt assent. Hence, scruples, hence ! 
All pride must yield to gain my son's return. 

\^Exit Ayesha. 



The Siege of Granada. 67 

ACT II. 

Scene V. — A garden. 

Enter Zoraya, an apostate Christian^ and favorite 
wife of Aben Hassan, 

Zoraya. — Alas, how vain are earth's ambitious 
schemes ! 

For worldly pomp I staked my priceless soul ; 
To win the phantoms of my fleeting dreams, 

I pledged my fairest wealth, and lost the whole : 
The bubbles burst, the phantoms fled away. 

The spell is broken ; o'er my dazzled sight 
The sad reality of perfect day 

Steals slowly back, and lifts the veil of night. 
Alas, alas, the real and the true — 

How the false phantoms shrink before its gleam ! 
And, startled conscience, now thou bring'st to view 

My buried years ! How sad, how stern, they 
seem ! 

fierce, accusing spirits, back again 

To your sealed sepulchres ! In mercy, turn — 

1 cannot bear your looks ! Through soul and brain 
Those sp)ectral eyes, like torturing fires, burn. 

'Tis vain ! 'tis vain ! the phantoms haunt me yet — • 

Those mocking tones will never, never cease. 
" List ! list!" they cry, ''and never more forget 

The gloomy retrospect that mars thy peace. 
Ay, writhe in anguish, shrink in guilty fear — 

Thou can'st not still our clamoring voices now ; 
Our dark recital thou art doomed to hear, 

Till pitying death shall seal thy sin-stained brow. 



68 Beside the Western Sea. 

For the false Crescent thou didst leave the Cross : 

Thy soul is perjured for a base renown. 
Measure thy gain, O traitor ! by thy loss : 

Thy birthright bartered for a worthless crowp; 
God's friendship lost, that thou might'st be the slave, 

The toy, the favorite, of a mortal king. 
Where is thy master? In his nameless grave. 

What is thy diadem ? A worthless thing. 
Where is thy regal splendor? Gone ! all gone ! 

Thy palace home is now thy prison cell ; 
The fierce usurper of thy master's throne, 

Hath he not paid thy treachery full well ? " 
Offended God, if I might turn to Thee 

For aid, for comfort, in this gloomy hour ! 
Alas, alas, lost soul ! this may not be. 

Thou scorner of thy Maker's love and power ! 
Mock Him not now in thy unworthy prayer — 

Endure thy anguish : 'tis a just reward ; 
But never let thy perjured accents dare 

To breathe the name of thy insulted Lord ! 
But, list ! a step approaches ! well I know 

That calm, soft tread. O favored child of grace, 
Happy Maria ! earthly guilt and woe 

Never may find in thy pure soul a place. 
How tranquil is her eye ! How sweet her smile ! 

O faithful mirrors of the peace within 
The quiet heart, unstained by worldly guile, 

And undisturbed by worldl}" strife and sin ! 
It is her hour for holy thought and prayer. 

Ay, hark ! she speaks ! now will I list, unseen, 
To sacred words which I may never dare 

Utter with traitor tongue and lips unclean. 

\C.onceals Jierself. 



The Siege of Granada. 69 

Maria advances, and seats herself on a grassy mound. 

Maria. — How calm, how pure, how lovely is 
this scene ! 

Fair nature, shrouded in the waning- light. 
With dew-gemmed eyes, yet patient and serene, 

Looks meekly forth, to greet the royal night. 
O twilight calm, the lingering embrace 

Of night's sweet stillness with the day's unrest! 
The fiery monarch soon will yield his place. 

And slumber softly on her jewelled breast. 
O holy twilight, nature's hour of prayer, 

How sacred is the hush thy presence flings! 
From the soft stars gleam angel faces fair. 

And fancy hears the rush of angel wings — 
So near doth list'ning heaven seem to bend 

Unto the orisons of suppliant earth ; 
And benisons with evening dews descend. 

Like heralds of a new and perfect birth. 
O blissful heaven, so near, and yet so far I 

O bond of earth ! O wretched, wretched chain ! 
My weary soul, beneath the vesper star. 

Pours forth its sio:h in sad and lonsrino^ strain. 

\She sings to her guitar. 

Maria's Song. — [Air, '' Ever of Thee.'') 
Still, still for thee, O dear and distant heaven, 

Sadly I pine in hated bondage here ! 
O that the chains that bind m}^ soul were riven ! 

O that her cell, her prison, dark and drear, 
Might open now its gloomy, gloomy portal I 

How would my ransomed spirit wing her flight' 



/O Beside the Western Sea. 

Ne'er would she pause, till, on thy shore immortal, 
Calmly she basked in endless peace and light. 
Ever a slave, while here I may be. 
How do I languish, heaven, for thee ! 

Hush, hush, my soul, th}" discontented plaint — ■ 

Bear patiently the cross, to win the crown. 
Though on his way the pilgrim oft doth faint, 

Soon shall he lay his weary burden down ; 
But, God and Father! hear my prayer for her 

Whose need is great. O pour Thy healing balm 
Into her wounds ! O deign to minister 

To those dark woes, which only Thou canst calm ! 
In merc}" save her from the dark despair 

Which broodeth o'er her like a fatal pall. 
Thou knowest, Lord, how earnest was my prayer 

That Thou Thy wandering sheep would'st fondly 
call 
Back to her place, within the peaceful fold. 

I see Thy hand already stretched to save. 
Still in thy grasp the w^eary wand'rer hold ; 

The wolf yet howleth, and the tempests rave. 
She pauses, wakened from her sinful dream. 

And backward turns her wild, bewildered gaze; 
She sees the wrathful fires of justice gleam. 

And the dark phantoms of her buried days, 
Like stern accusers, rise to mock her woe. 

O faithful Shepherd ! shield her from despair, 
Bid the blest drops of sweet repentance flow, 

Teach the dumb lips to form a trusting prayer. 
O tender Mother of her angered Lord ! 

Fair pity's home is in thy gentle breast ; 



The Siege of Granada. 71 

Plead for her, then — one mediative word 

From thy blest lips can bring the perfect rest. 

ZORAYA rushes wildly from her Jiiding-place . 

ZORAYA. — O saintly maiden ! dost thou pray for 
me? 
For me — a wretch, a rebel? Know'st thou not 
That I am stained with crime so base, so black, 
That yon pure sun should scorn, methinks, to shed 
One ray on such a foul and hideous thing? 
I but pollute the earth on which I tread. 
And prayers for me would mock insulted heaven ; 
Then leave the traitor to her fate — despair : 
[t is her doom, well-merited, well-earned. 

Maria. — My noble mistress, cease these frenzied 
words — 
Yield not to dark despair, the demon's last 
Convulsive hold upon thy struggling soul ; 
Shake off his grasp, dear lady, and look up, 
Look up to Calvary ! Above the cross 
That crowns its blessed height, the star of hope 
Still sheds its soft and pitying light for thee. 

Zoraya. — Calvary ! the cross ! those words but 
add new pangs. 
The precious blood once offered on that mount 
Cries out against me. Every drop doth fall, 
Like burning lava, on my perjured soul. 
The Cross? I trampled it beneath my feet — • 
I scorned it for the Crescent's glare ; and now 
It hath become my judge, and writes my doom ! 
'Tis changed into a fierce and flaming sword. 
To 2:oad me downward to mv fittins^ home. 



'^2 Beside the Westerii Sea. 

Maria. — I do command thee to be calm I Nay, 
thus 
I prison here these restless hands. List ! list I 
Thy wild, disordered fanc}- conjures up 
These shapes of gloom and terror. Nay, look up; 
The blessed cross is not a wrathful sword. 
It is the s3'mbol of sweet peace, the sign 
Of sure salvation. From its sacred base 
A full, unfailing stream of mercy flows; 
And, though thy sins were red as scarlet, 3'et 
That savins^ tide can wash them white as snow. 
Behold thy Saviour's dying look of love I 
Doth it not bid the prodigal return, 
To find glad welcome in her father's house.'' 
From merc\''s home, the pure and. peaceful cross, 
His tender accents softly whisper, '' Come, 
O weary, burdened, heavy-laden heart ! 
Come trustingly. Cast here thy load of grief, 
And I will give thee rest." 

ZORAVA. — Ah blessed words I 

Too sweet, too soothing! Can it, can it be, 
That there is hope for me ? No ! no II am 
Too vile, too guilty. Yet, ah gracious thought! 
He died to save ! E'en now, around His throne, 
Are ransomed souls, once black and foul as mine, 
All, in His cleansing blood, washed white as snow, 
Ay, in His blood! O victim lamb! O love 
Ineffable ! Break, break, thou stubborn heart ! 

\She weeps. 

Maria. — I thank Thee, Lord ! Th}^ servant's 
prayer is heard ! 
Ay, weep, dear lady ! These are priceless gems. 



The Siege of GnDuida. j^ 

One tear of true repentance, one sweet drop, 
Such as thou sheddest now, the heart's pure dew, 
Can blot out ev'ry crime that 'gainst thy soul 
Was stamped in blood on the eternal pag-e. 
With such pure tears the penitent of old 
Bedewed her Saviour's feet. Now, even now, 
Th}^ precious tears are filling angel hearts 
With purest joy, and bidding heaven's court 
Ring with their glad rejoicing o'er this soul 
Once lost, now found, once dead, now roused to life — 
The perfect life of grace ! 

ZORAYA. — O matchless friend ! 

Sweet comforter! Thy dear and gentle voice 
Recalls my blameless childhood, for its tones 
Are like the sainted mother's, at whose knee 
1 listened to that history of love, 
My Saviour's earthly life : a holy peace, 
Long, long, a stranger there, steals o'er my heart. 
Take up thy lute, Maria, I would hear 
The hymn thou sungest yester-night. How oft. 
Ah me ! how oft that sweet and soothing strain 
Hath floated from her pure and peaceful heart 
On the soft twilight air ! O sing it now. 
And 1 will dream of by-gone innocence. 

yit^RlA sings : "■ The Evening Hymn at the Wajsi/fe 

SJirineT 

O'er mount and meadow 

Steals the twilight's dreamy gra}^ ; 

Night's deep'ning shadow 
liides the ling'ring day. 



74 Beside the Western Sea. 

Pilgrims faint and weary, 
Fondly hail their g-uiding star, 

Through the darkness dreary, 
Shining bright and far. 
Ave Maria ! 

Beacon gleaming through the wild ! 

Star of the wand'rer, 
Shine upon thy child ! 
Soft tones are stealing 

Through the twilight cold and dim, 
Earth's children, kneeling. 

Chant their vesper hymn. 
Hear their earnest pleading ! 

Safety flies with fainting day ! 
For us, interceding. 

Send the guiding ray ! 
Ave Maria, etc. 

Lo, the boon is given ! 

Dread not now the shades of night ! 
Stars have bloomed in heaven, 

Earth is crowned with light. 
Thus, O Guardian tender, 

May thy starry glance illume, 
With its potent splendor, 

Life's last hour of gloom ! 
Ave Maria, etc. 

ZORAYA. — O blessed souvenirs of by-gone days! 
How they come thronging back ! O Christian 

home ! 
Dear, dear Castile ! How mv heart vearns for thee ! 



The Siege of G^^anada. ^^ 

Maria, if I could behold once more 

Those loved, familiar scenes : my village home, 

My father's ancient hall, the vine-clad cots 

That nestled safely 'neath its shelt'ring towers, 

And the quaint chapel, with its gilded cross. 

Pointing the heavenly road to faithful hearts,— 

If I could feast my weary eyes but once 

On that sweet picture, I would be content 

To spend my life a crouching, toiling slave 

In e'en the meanest cottage of that vale. 

Oh, I would bless the chains that bound me there 

In willing servitude ! Alas, vain dream, 

Never to be fulfilled ! 

Maria. — Nay, say not so ! 

Our gracious Isabella hath a heart. 
The palace home of every noble thought, 
Whose every throb is charity and love ; 
And, like the Master whom that heart hath served 
With faithful zeal, from earliest infancy, 
A human soul is precious in her sight, 
Its conquest prized above earth's fairest realm. 
Toward the Christian slaves who pine, like thee, 
In pain and peril, 'neath the Moslem yoke, 
She fondly yearns with all her mother-love. 
Fly, then, to her. Be sure that thou wilt find 
A tender welcome there. 

ZORAYA. — I know, I know 

Her generous soul. E'en haughty infidels. 
Enraptured, praise its gifts and virtues rare: 
And yet I may not fly to her. Alas ' 
My gilded chains are firmly fastened here. 
By hands still reeking with a brother's blood. 



76 Beside the Western Sea. 

The fierce El Zagel, base and cruel wretch, 
Detains me, prisoned in these palace walls ; 
His creatures watch my ev'ry movement — e'en 
Would read my very thoughts. Escape is vain. 
How, how can I be freed ? 

Maria. — An easy task. 

Only this morn I chanced to overhear 
A secret conference betwixt two knights — 
Two of his chosen followers. They said 
The fickle populace e'en now had grown 
Disgusted with their idol. Whispered hints 
And fierce suspicions of foul fratricide, 
Ominous and dark, like boding vulture's wings. 
Were floatmg through the stormy atmosphere ; 
And all this, while full victory hath blessed 
The Christian arms, in ev'ry strife and siege. 
And yet, El Zagel crouches in his lair. 
And dares not venture forth, lest Boabdil 
Should, in his absence, seize his halls and throne. 
The Moorish mob are clamorous for war, 
As they behold, like maddened beasts at bay, 
The cross-crowned banner of the Christians wave 
E'en within sight of their proud capital. 
Granada must surrender: civil war 
Within her gates, and conqu'ring hosts without, 
Will bring her speedy fall. Now hear my plan : 
Do thou, most noble mistress, now, this night, 
Write to our queen a simple, strong appeal ; 
State thy whole case — thy sufferings, thy needs. 
And signify thy wish to be received 
Within the shelter of thy home and faith — 
That is thy task, dear lad}^ ! This is mine : 



The Siege of Granada. yj 

A trusty friend, a watchful Christian spy, 
Is lurking now within these very walls — 
At my request, this messenger will bear 
Thy missive safe unto our gracious queen. 

ZoKAYA. — Thanks, gentle friend! O pure un- 
looked-for joy ! 
I shall be free ! Farewell, ye stately walls. 
Proud home of guilt, ambition, and unrest! 
Far from your charms I seek the longed-for peace 
Which royal pomp could never, never, give. 
Ayesha, thou mayst reign unrivalled now — 
May God forgive my sinful strife for power, 
And the deep wrongs I wrought on thee and thine. 
M}^ earthly dreams are o'er ; I only seek 
To win for my young sons a fadeless crown — 
Their priceless, true inheritance — in heaven. 
But why do I delay? Come, gentle friend. 
Sweet angel-counsellor, assist me now 
To frame the missive that shall bring me peace. 

[Exeunt Maria and Zoraya. 



Scene VI. — The Surrender of Granada, A Hall of 

the AlJiambra. 

BOABDIL. — O my lost kingdom ! O my ruined 
home! 

My fair Granada, beauty's favored land ! 
Ah ! must thy king a weary wand'rer roam. 

Far from thy sunny skies and zephyrs bland t 
How will the fragrance of thy smiling flowers, 

And the rich verdure of each fruitful plain, 



78 Beside the Western Sea. 

Still haunt my dreams, through all the dreary hours 

Of my lone exile's sad and ceaseless pain ! 
O wretched fate ! O drear and dismal doom ! 

Well might the prophets curse my natal star, 
Already shrouded in a night of gloom, 

Soon, soon to sink in rayless death afar ! 
Mine is a base renown — a fearful fame : 

Cursed by my race, and hated in my time. 
All future ages, too, shall scorn my nam.e 

In blighting chronicle and mocking rhyme. 
But, Allah Achbar ! God alone is great ! 

Alas ! these words of resignation fall 
From a reluctant heart, which mourns its fate — 

Torn from its realm, its throne, its ancient hall. 
And doomed — O woe ! O anguish, keen and deep ! — 

Far from its home to wander and to pine. 
My lost Granada ! Let me wildly weep, 

For was there ever grief, O God, like mine? 

\He weeps. 

Enter Ayesha, Morayma, and Conrtiers. 
Ayesha. — Ay, weep ! these tears become thee ! 
Thou art right, 
O coward, craven-hearted king! to mourn, 
Like a weak woman, o'er the fallen realm 
For which thou couldst not battle like a man. 
Morayma. — O royal mother, spare his bleeding 
heart ! 
Hast thou no mercy? Ah! withhold those shafts 
Of thy most piercing scorn. Thou art unjust: 
He is no coward. Long and well he strove 
To save his kingdom and his kingly fame. 



TJie Siege of Granada. 79 

All, all in vain. The dread decree of fate 
Pronounced his doom, for God alone is great: 
Earth's miHitiest monarchs must obev his will. 

BOABDIL. — I do deserve reproaches, though, in 
sooth, 
I never failed in bravery, nor sought 
To shield mvself when dans^er hovered near 
My cherished people: yet my fate is just. 
I have incurred the blighting wrath of heaven 
For mv rebellion Vainst mv murdered sire. 
F(3rgive, my injured subjects, oh, forg-ive 
The ruin I have wrought on you and yours ! 
Lay not up wrath against -me — 'twas my fate: 
Well was I nicknamed the Unfortunate. 
The seer's prediction, uttered at my birth, 
Hath been fulfilled. Alas ! I am the last. 
The last and luckless Moorish king. My throne 
Is vacant now for ever. Yet comply 
With those hard offers of the Christians — 'tis 
Your only means of safety. For your sakes 
I did accept the treaty. Now, farewell! 
Think kindly of your most unhappy king. 
May Allah, who doth hold his royal court 
Above our loved Granada, guard and bless 
Our once so happy home ! May he avert 
From my poor subjects his avenging wrath ! 
Upon my guiltv head alone the blow. 
Well-merited, should fall. Farewell! farewell! 

All cry. — Long live Boabdil the Unfortunate! 

MORAYMA.— Rouse thee, Boabdil, thou hast one 
true heart : 
Though friends forsake, and even hope depart, 



So Beside the Western Sea. 

In life, in death, one faithful heart shall cling 
Fondly to thee, its consort and its king. 

Atl. — All hearts are his ! may x\llah guard our 
king ! 

Ayesha. — What ? do you dally here in maudlin 
grief 
And interchange of silly compliments. 
When, even now, within the outer court, 
I hear their ringing steps, who gaily come 
To celebrate their haughty triumph here ? 
Ay, will ye linger on, till your new lords 
Shall drive ye out like dogs ? Hence, fly with me, 
If ye be Moors, nor stay, like crouching slaves 
Or fawning sycophants, to kiss the dust 
Beneath the feet of your proud conquerors. 

{Exeunt ait, exclaiming^ — Farewell, Granada ! woe 
for us and thee ! 



TRIUMPH OF THE CHRISTIANS. 

Concluding Scene. — Tlie CJiristian Camp before 
Granada. Enter FERDINAND a7id Isabella, at the 
head of a triumphal procession. All sing, in chorus, 
the Christiajts Sojtg of Triumph. 

Granada is fallen ! Granada is ours — 

We've conquered her cities, her plains, and her 
towers ; 

New lustre to add to our kingdom's renown, 

New jewels, new jewels, to flash in her crown. 



The Siege of Granada. 8 1 

(Chorus). — Then down with the Crescent, and up 

with the Cross — 
We've crushed the false Prophet, we'll laugh at his 

loss ; 

And the shouts oF our triumph unceasing shall peal : 

Granada is ours ! Joy, joy for Castile ! 

Ferdinand.— Most valiant knights and noble 
cavaliers, 
Behold the rich reward, the worthy prize, 
Of all your wounds, .fatigue and perils ! Look 
On yonder stately city ! It is ours : 
Granada hath surrendered ! In the dust 
The haught}^ Moslem bends ! Our conqu'ring cross 
Shall gleam, this day, on yon proud minaret : 
We wait the glorious signal. When ye see 
That holy sign on yon Alhambra's towers. 
Then proudly enter through its gates, and there. 
Within those stately walls, which now belong 
To fair Castile, keep joyous gala day. 

All together. — Long live Fernando I Heaven 
bless our king ! 

Isabella. — But, in our triumph, let us not forget 
That gracious hand, without whose mighty aid 
Success had never blessed the Christian arms. 
When priestly hands have sanctified yon mosque, 
And changed the temple of unholy rites 
Into a dwelling for the Lord of Hosts, 
Then let us there adore and render thanks 
Most meet for this blest victory. Nor let 
The thrill of earthly pride be blended with 
The joyous throbbing of our grateful hearts : 
This is the triumph of the cross ! The praise 



82 Beside the Western Sea. 

Belongs to Him who vanquished, by that cross. 
A proud and stubborn world. Remember, too, 
He conquered b}^ His mildness and His love. 
Let us not mar the glory of our deeds 
By haughty sneers toward our fallen foes. 
For the meek Saviour's sake, O let us be 
As noble and as chivalrous, in peace 
And triumph, as the conquered Moors do now 
Acknowledge we have ever been in war. 

All sing. — Hail, hail, Isabella! Long life to our 
queen ! 
Be that heart e'er as tranquil, that smile as serene ! 
All glory, all grace, hath attended thy reign : 
Blest, blest be that heaven that gave thee to Spain. 

{C/toriis). — Down, down with the crescent, etc. 

ZORAYA advances, and kneels before Isabella. 

ZoRAYA. — And now receive, O sweet and saintly 
queen ! 
This conquered soul within thy shelt'ring love ; 
Here, at thy feet, I bend the humble knee, 
And in the presence of this august court, 
I here deplore my base apostasy ; 
I trample on that crescent, whose false gleam 
Betrayed my dazzled soul. I now renounce 
The fiend-led Prophet, with his erring creed, 
And promise firm allegiance to the cross. 
Forgive my wand'rings from my childhood's faith; 
Receive the penitent, who would become 
E'en as thy meanest slave, for she deserves 
No higher station in her native land. - 



The Siege of Granada. Z^i 

Isabella. — Rise, rise, Zoraya, and again resume 
Thy Christian name of Isabella — rise, 
Th)' prayer is granted. Should His creatures be 
Less merciful than God ? He hath received 
His erring child. Take, then, our kiss of peace, 
And all the honors due thy rank. Thou art 
Our Princess of Granada, and thy sons 
Shall take the title of Infanta. Nay, 
No protestations of unworthiness : 
Thy penitence atones for every sin. 
Ah ! here is conquest worthy this proud day : 
A soul reclaimed — a precious gem restored 
To the bright casket of the King of kings. 
Brave knights, our victory is but begun ! 
How many souls, within this darkened land, 
Are groping blindly through forbidden paths ! 
Be ours the noble task to guide them safe 
In the blest road of virtue and of peace ; 
x\nd now, in humblest homage, let us kneel 
Before that God who armed the Christian's hand, 
And meekly bge His precious grace, that we 
INIay wear our honors worthily and well. (All kneel) 
Isabella's Prayer. — Thou God Omnipotent, 

before whose throne 
Earth's proudest places sink, unmarked, unknown! 
At whose all-conqu'ring will and kingly rod 
Earth's sceptres bend, earth's monarchs own their 

God I 
Who biddest worldly kingdoms rise and fall, 
Thyself enduring. King and Lord of all ! 
Accept, O God, our grateful homage now. 
Before Thv throne our reverent heads we bow ! 



84 Beside the Western Sea. 

And for the joy, the triumph of this day, 
To Thee our debt of gratitude we pay. 
Great God of armies. Thou hast deigned to bless 
The Christian arms, and win their proud success, 
That haughty error's dark and dreadful stain 
Might thus be wiped from off our lovel}^ Spain ; 
That rebel hearts might bow their stubborn pride, 
And own His power, w^hom they have long defied. 
Thine shall the glory of our conquest be — ■ 
This rescued land w^e consecrate to Thee ; 
The Moslem mosque, made pure by holy hand, 
A Christian temple in Thy sight shall stand. 
Low in the dust the cruel Crescent lies, 
And in its place the peaceful Cross shall rise ; 
But shield our hearts from vain ambition's dreams, 
From haughty triumph, and all sordid schemes. 
To the pure standard of our Lord and King, 
Give us Thy grace with faithful hearts to cling. 
O blessed Saviour, who beside us stood, 
Linked with our race in human brotherhood ! 
Aid us to hold all earthly things as dross, 
And glory only in Thy saving cross ; 
And by that sign, more mighty than the sword, 
O may we spread the empire of our Lord ! 
Be this our noblest work, our best renown : 
To win new gems to sparkle in His crown. 
Then, valiant victors o'er the demon foe, 
A fairer prize than earth could e'er bestow, 
A fadeless wreath of everlasting fame, 
E'en at Thy hands, O Father ! we may claim — 
The priceless boon to faithful sers^ants given: 
An ho lored name within Thv court of heaven ! 



The Siege of Granada. 85 

A II respond. — A men. 

Ferdinand. — Behold the signal ! O'er yon 

stately tower 
The silver cross is gleaming ! Finish, now, 
The song of triumph ! Then advance, brave 

knights 
And noble dames, through yonder portal's arch, 
To the new church, the consecrated mosque — 
There, with the holy bishop, to intone 
7> Deuni Laiidaviiis lor our victory ! 
All stng. — Hail, morning of triumph ! Hail, 

glorious day. 
And blest be the hearts that exult in its ray ! 
To the strong arm that aided, success let us sing ! 
Long life to Fernando ! Hail, hail, to our king ! 

[All retire sloivly, singing this chorus :) 
Down, down with the Crescent, and up with the 

Cross ! 
We'll crush all invaders, and laugh at their loss ; 
And this be our watchword, in danger or weal, 
" Santiago ! Santiago ! Ho ! ho ! for Castile ! " 

\_Exeunt omnes. 



THE RANSOMED CAPTIVE; 

OR, 

THE REGENERATION OF EARTH, 



PERSONAGES: 



Earth. 

Paganism. 

Child of Earth. 

Violence. 

Truth {or Religion). 

Virtue. 

Faith. 

Hope. 

Charity. 

Peace. 



Mercy. 

Europe. 

Asia. 

Africa. 

America. 

Science. 

Music. 

Poetry. 

Painting. 

Sculpture. 



The Ransomed Captive ; 

OR, 

THE REGENERATION OF EARTH 

AN ALLEGORICAL DRAMA. 



ACT I. 



Scene I. — Paganism leads ^xktk, fettered. 
Earth. — Yet once more, hear me ! Lo, I call 

on thee, 
By all thy gods on high Olympus throned, 
To free me from these bonds! I faint, I die. 
Beneath thy fearful yoke ! My smiling vales 
Are drenched with blood — the life-blood of my sons, 
Poured out upon thy dread, unholy shrines. 
Is not the dismal sacrifice complete? 
List the fierce echoes, o'er my moaning hills, 
Of thy foul orgies. Maddened by thy spells, 
The wild Bacchantes fill the quiet air 
With strange, demoniac sounds. Lo ! ev'ry vice, 
Ev'ry dark crime, exalted as a god. 
And by my children worshipped, proudly rules, 
And fills my once unclouded realm with woe. 
Ah, bid this anguish cease ! 'Tis time ! 'tis time ! 
Ages ago thy fearful sway began — 



96 Beside the Western Sea. 

Relief must come. Oh, let me lift my voice, 

In wild appeal, in agony of prayer! iSlie kneels^ 

O source of life ! Creator, Sovereign Lord ! 

Hear the wild prayer of sorrow-laden Earth. 
Fair nature's King, at v/hose creating word 

Light rose from shade — a world sprang into 
birth ! 
Who bade the mist-wreath'd mountains proudly 

stand, 
Chained the vast sea, and decked the blooming 

land — 
To Thee, great Ruler, lo ! I lift my cry — 

My wild appeal for pity and relief; 
Break m}^ loath'd bondage, heal my agony, 

Comfort my children, calm their stormy grief; 
Bid the foul demon-tyrant's reign be o'er, 
Bring dove-e3"ed Peace to weary Earth once more. 
Thy promise sweet of perfect sacrifice, 

Of full atonement, thrilled this blighted heart, 
When sin-bowed Adam from lost Paradise 

Turned, in his lonely anguish, to depart. 
*Tis time, O Lord ! fulfil Earth's hopeful dream : 
Send the Messiah, and Thy world redeem ! 
Banish the false, and bring Thy truth divine, 

Let Thine own temples in fair beauty rise ; 
Let holy hands, upon a holy shrine, 

Offer the blest, eternal sacrifice ; 
O'er shrouded earth Thy blessed sunlight shed, 
And back to endless life restore the dead. 



The Ransomed Captive, 97 

Enter Violence. 

Violence. — Rouse thee, pale mother ; shrink no 
longer here ! 
Up from thy craven dream ! Thy ruler claims 
Thy homage and thy presence. Stare not thus — 
Dost know thy ruler? 'Tis my consort meet, 
Great Paganism, mistress of the world. 
Who gives a god for every fantasy 
And passion of her victims. Ha ! ha ! well 
]\lay she thus condescend ! Full sure is she 
Of her deluded prey. Dost hear their shouts? 
Up, dreamer up, and join thy children's <zry. 
Hail, Error, hail ! Live, Crime and Violence, live ! 

\_Drags Earth away 



Scene II. — TJie Regeneration ^/Earth. 

Truth {or Religion), solus. 

Truth. — Hail, hail, at last the hour of blest 
release 
For sorrow- stricken Earth ! The longing cry 
Of weary hearts, that in the midnight gloom 
Have blindly groped, shall now — O joy ! — be heard. 
The faint mysterious ray that feebly stole 
Through the sin-clouded corridors of time — 
O bliss ineffable ! — hath burst, at last, 
Into the fulness of perfected day. 
Each mystic type that blessed the prophet's dream 
With a fond, trembling hope, becometh now 



98 Beside the Wcstej'u Sea. 

Waking reality ; and love's sweet song, 

That through the echoing ages faintly rolled, 

Like the soft melody of distant chimes, 

Rings out, in thrilhng emphasis, beneath 

The starlit sky o'er Bethlehem's favored plain. 

O mystery of love ! O happy race. 

For whom a God hath left His mighty throne, 

And in your fallen nature's fi'ail disguise, 

Offers Himself a sacrifice for sin ! 

That trait'rous blow, which, by your daring hands 

Aimed vainly 'gainst His regal majesty. 

Hath but returned — O rash, O fatal stroke! — . 

To wound the impious hearts that sent it forth. 

The wound is healed, its pangs for ever o'er. 

And Earth from galling fetters shall be freed. 

Enter Virtue, with FArrH, Hope, and Charity. 

Truth. — Welcome, sweet sisters! welcome, 
white-robed train ! 
What joy to meet in Earth's sad realm once more ! 
Faith, Hope, and Charity. — Peace, peace on 

earth ! good-will to fallen man ! 
Faith. — Thus let our greeting echo forth the song. 
The new, celestial anthem, now^ begun 
On this redemption-morn. 

Truth. — 'Tis well! 'tis well! 

And now, O shining b^ind, behold vour home ! 
Never again, by sin and darkness driven, 
Shall ye be forced to wing your heavenward flight, 
And leave poor Earth to ev'ry ill a prey. 
The baneful power, the dark despotic rule. 
Of Crime and Error, hath forever closed ; 



The Ransomed Captive, 99 

And now begins the new, eternal reign 
Of God-commissioned Truth. 

Hope. — Hail, heavenly Truth ! 

'Tis joy to greet our sov'reign here once more, 
And to resume our holy work on Earth. 
Poor fallen captive, from my far-off home 
Oft have I heard her anguish-laden cry. 
And longed to comfort her, to chase away 
The demon of despair. 

Truth. — The time hath come ! 

Go, star-crowned herald, on thy swiftest wings, 
And bring the joyful answer to her prayer — 
The glorious tidings of a Saviour's birth. 
E'en now her weary moan, her wail of woe, 
Is borne upon the gale. Go, shining Hope, 
And soothe her orrief with sweetest words of cheer. 

{^Exit Hope. 

Faith. — O gentle queen, I wait thy blest com- 
mand ! 
My eager steps, impatient of delay. 
Would hasten on their sacred pilgrimage. 

Truth. — O halo-circled Faith, thou shalt depart 
On thy sweet mission. Give thine aid to him, 
The blest precursor of the coming Lord — 
The ''Voice that crieth in the wilderness" — 
And shed thy radiance o'er the darkened hearts 
Of those who, by fair Jordan's blessed shore. 
Shall list his holy words. O bid them see 
The glory of this new, celestial dawn ! 
Haste, with thy magic hand, to ope the gates. 
The shining portals of that glorious land. 
To which, sweet Faith, thy rapt, ecstatic gaze 



lOO Beside the Western Sea. 

Is ever lifted. Heaven speed thy steps, 
Fair child of God, bright, gloom-dispelling Faith ! 

{Exit Faith. 
Charity. — And I, beloved sovereign — hast thou 
naught 
For me to do? Ah, bid me take my place 
'Mid those blest laborers in our Master's cause ! 

Truth. — Queen of the sister tram, sweet Charitv ! 
Thine is the noblest work. Thy golden chain, 
Thy magic bonds of balm-distilling flowers, 
Must bind the vv^ayward souls of sin-bowed men. 
Revenge and Hate, thy darkest, deadliest foes. 
Have tinged earth's crystal streams with brothers' 

blood, 
And bade the trembling, fear-struck air resound 
With tumult wild and wailing agony. 
Go ! cleanse th' ensanguined tide ! Go, still the 

storm ! 
Conquer, with gentlest spells, thy demon foes, 
And let the joyous air be filled, once more, 
With the glad echo of Love's endless song. 

{Exit Charity. 
Truth. — Sweet sister, we must share our chil- 
dren's work : 
Ours is a noble conquest. Let us haste 
To follow, through the olive-shaded plain, 
O'er the lone mountain, and beside the shore 
Of hallowed streams, that blest, atoning Life, 
In Bethlehem, on this fair morn, begun ; 
And when it shall be closed on Calvary, 
And Love's sweet sacrifice for man complete. 
Truth shall receive His blood-empurpled cross 



The Ransomed Captive. loi 

As her fair standard. By that saving sign 
We shall subdue our demon-enemies, 
Idolatry and Violence. Ah, what joy 
To free the captive, Earth, and crush her foes! 
Virtue. — And, blessed sister, we may claim sweet 
aid : 
Mercy shall wait beside the sacred tomb 
Of heaven's risen Lord, at early dawn 
Of the blest resurrection-morn. Her, there. 
Expectant we shall find. Her potent hand 
Will burst asunder the unhallowed bonds 
Of Error-fettered Earth, and — blessed boon ! — 
The pardon purchased by a Saviour's blood, 
To fallen man shall bring. Ah ! let us haste — 
In lowdy crib our Master cradled lies ; 
Let us beside the sinless Mother kneel. 
And offer homage to our Infant King. 

{_Exeunt Truth and Virtue. 



Scene III. — Earth enters, still fettered. 
Earth. — Vainly I plead : no comfort, no release ! 

Still, still I writhe, in vilest fetters bound ; 
I long to hear the soothing song of peace, 

And still dread Moloch's battle-cries resound. 
Error and Crime hold fiendish revelry, 

And still my children grovel at their feet; 
And bend, at guilty shrines, the willing knee, 

And, day by day, their sinful rites repeat. 
The holy memory of that hallowed time 

When Israel bowed before the living God, 



1C2 Beside the Western Sea. 

When incense rose, where pealed the chant sublime, 

And pure libations sanctified the sod. 
Like the sweet fragrance of departed flowers — 

That blest remembrance lingers o'er mv heart; 
And through the long, long night's slow-pacing 
hours 

The dream-like odor could not all depart. 
Oft, too, beneath the star-bespangled sky, 

With dewv tears upon mv brow, I las', 
And watched the kneeling prophet's lifted eye. 

And caught the glory of a heav'n-sent ray, 
Serenely mirrored in his upward gaze. 

O mystic light, that sent the joyous thrill 
Through mv lone heart, and bade the flowers raise 

Their grief-bowed heads, and woke each sleeping 
rill 1 
Though ages since the heaven-inspired seer 

Passed from m}' lonely solitudes away. 
And through the gloom}" night, and silence drear, 

Nor sweet voice woke, nor bright, prophetic ray ; 
Yet, God of hope ! that dream-like memory 

Hath a strange spell to soothe my wild despair, 
And bid the captive kneel again to Thee, 

And breathe once more her agony of prayer. 
Last night a clearer murmur faintly stole. 

Like the fair seraph's long-hushed song of peace, 
And trembling hopes woke in my weary soul — 

Hopes of the promised comfort and release. 
It comes not yet. Oh, was it mockery? 

The demon-tauntings of uiv cruel foe? 
Nay ! Sov'reign Lord I vet, yet 1 call on Thee! 

Fulfil Thv promise, calm Thy children's woe ! 



The Ransomed Captive. 103 

(Hope smgs in the distance^ 
Love hath sent a balm for pain. 

Heaven bids Earth's sorrows cease ! 
List to the new, celestial strain, 

List to the angels' song of peace: 
Gloria in excelsis Deo I 

Earth. — 'Tis last night's song, but ah I so sweet, 

so clear ! 
And list ! the rustle of an ano-el's winof ! 
'Tis long since those fair pinions stole so near. 
Is it a dream? Do m.ockino- demons sins; ? 

Hope. — It is no dream, thou hast heard aright ; 
Look up, and bask in heav'n's own light. 

Up, up, and echo the seraphs' lay I 
The night of sorrows is past and gone. 
Look up, look up, and hail the dawn, 

The golden dawn of redemption's day I 

In lowly crib thv Saviour lies, 
Clad in thy children's frail disguise. 

Hailed bv the lowly shepherd throng 
Who, watching on the dreary plain. 
Caught the first echo of that strain. 

The seraphs' own celestial song. 

Lift up, O Earth, th.y gladsome voice, 
Let hill, and vale, and stream rejoice ! 

Pale mourner, in thy joy, be strong ! 
Behold the realm of fadeless peace, 
And hail the boon of sweet release. 

The ransom thou hast waited lone:. 



104 Beside the Western Sea. 

Through the sin-clouded ages borne, 
The echo of thy wail forlorn 

Reached my abiding-place on high ; 
And fondly have I yearned to bring 
Light, joy, and healing on my wing, 

To calm thy cruel agony. 

The time is come, the boon is brought, 
The light, the solace thou hast sought, 

Are thine, pale mourner, thine at last. 
The reign of Tyranny is o'er, 
And Truth shall reign for evermore, 

And bid th}^ anguish all be past. 

The light that cheered the patriarch's night. 
And beamed upon the prophet's sight, 

With strange, mysterious ray — 
Heaven's radiant Sun, its richest gem. 
Lies hid in humble Bethlehem, 

Enshrined in lowliest clay. 

Earth. — O joyous tidings ! O celestial dawn, 
That endeth thus my long, long night of woe ! 
I know thee, smiling herald, star-crowned Hope. 
I saw thee first in that most blissful time. 
With thy wings folded o'er fair Paradise ; 
Again I caught the bright, reflected gleam 
Of those blest pinions, when, above the waste 
Of surging waters, God's fair covenant — 
His radiant bow of blessed promise — hung. 
And I have called thee long — with hands out- 
stretched 



The Ransovied Captive. 105 

Have sought to clasp thy robe, to catch its gleam, . 

And listened vainly for thy blissful song. 

O joy at last ! to hail thee, brightest one 

Of all the heavenly throng, thou sweet-voiced Hope ! 

F.-MTH enters. 
Faith. — Ransomed captive, welcome me! 
Brightest gift I bring to thee. 
Fairest treasure from on high : 
Sunlight from Love's fadeless sky. 
Incense pure again shall rise, 
And an endless sacrifice 
Offered shall be evermore. 
For the reign of doubt is o'er. 
From the sin-polluted shrine 
Idols falsely deemed divine 
Bv a demon-fettered world. 
Shall, by angel hands, be hurled. 
I, who led the chosen band 
Safely to the promised land, 
Kindled Israel's altar-fire. 
Woke the psalmist's sacred lyre ; 
And, b}' mystic starlight, showed 
Their Redeemer's poor abode 
To the treasure-laden band. 
Who, from distant Eastern land, 
Costliest offerino^s would brine: 
To that hidden Lord and King, — 
I will teach thy children now 
At His holy shrine to bow ; 
1 will cleanse the sin-stained clay, 
1 will wash thy guilt away. 



io6 Beside the JVesiern Sea. 

Earth. — Hail, hail to thee, upon whose seraph 
brow 
Heav'n's glory hovers, as a gleaming crown, 
The purest raj from Love's eternal throne — 
O glorious Faith ! Earth gladh^ welcomes thee ; 
And may my sin-duped children hear thy voice, 
With wiUing ears and rev'rent hearts. Ah, then, 
Joy shall awake within those care-worn souls. 
And every longing wish be satisfied. 

Cpiarity. — I come, I come, with glowing heart, 
And ever open hand, 
I bring a chain of fragrant flow'rs — 

Tis Love's ow^n magic band. 
I come a guiltless conqueror. 

In bloodless strife I win ; 
Thy children's souls my subjects are, 

My well-fought foe is sin. 
By gentle words and soothing smiles, 

By kindly deed and thought — 
Thus is my glorious conquest won, 

My glorious labor wrought. 
I still the storm of vengeful hate, 

I break the sword of war, 
And free the hapless victims whom 

He fastens to his car. 
I turn the heart from gods of clay 

To the true God of love. 
And fill the world-worn spirit with 

Sweet dreams of bliss above. 
I come to still th)- wild unrest. 
To charm from demon-snare, 
To bind upon thy woe-worn breast 
The potent shield of prayer. 



The Ransomed Captive. 107 

I come to fill thy children's hearts 

With love's celestial fire, 
And I will bid that holy flame 

Burn clearer yet, and higher. 
It glows in perfect purity 

Within her sinless breast, 
Upon W'hose fond, maternal arm 

The Lord of love doth rest. 
It beams upon her radiant brow, 

It lights her perfect face, 
For 'tis her regal ornament — 

Her richest, brightest grace. 
The heaits that love her blessed Son 

This royal gift shall share, 
And I will guard the sacred flame 

That burns, unfading, there. 
And I w41l bid that blessed light 

Shine out with steadfast ray. 
To form a pure, celestial path, 
A heavenward-guiding way. 
Earth. — Welcome, sovereign of the shining 
three. 
Thou of the burning heart and beaming smile ! 
Thou, in whose radiant eyes the ready tear 
Of pity shineth, Hke the crystal dew^ 
Upon the bosom of a sunlit flower ! 
All hail! all hail! fair, dove-eyed Charity, 
Thrice blessed be thy gentle reign on earth ! 
In thy sweet fetters mav mv children's hearts, 
O peaceful conqueror! be firmly bound. 
Fair sister-graces, heav'n's own brightest band, 
Once more the Eden-happiness returns, 



.To8 Beside the Western Sea. 

And decks my realm as with a festal robe, 
To hail your blessed coming. And yet, hark ! 
The dreaded step ! Ah, shield me! lo, they come ! 
My tyrant foes, my demon enemies ! 

Enter Pagankm and VIOLENCE. The Virtues gather 
round Earth. 

Paganism {aside to Violence). — Our fears were 

faithful messengers ! Behold 
Yon soft-voiced three, our hated, heaven-sent foes. 
Descended here, in answer to the prayer 
Of Earth! Bewailing driveller! Ours will be 
Hard task, indeed, to break the magic spell. 
The potent influence of those silver tongues. 
Yet we must battle on ; it will not do 
To 3'ield our long-enjoyed dominion thus. 
Stay! I will speak in honeyed syllables — 
Will win, by flatter}^, 3'on deserter back, 
And conquer her new champions, even here, 
B\^ their own magic weapons. [SJie advances^ Hail 

to thee, 
O sovereign Terra, mother of the gods ! 
We come to lead thee forth in triumph now ; 
We bring thy oaken wreath and turret crown, 
And, in thy car, by royal lions drawn, 
We, thy retainers, thy most willing slaves, 
Will lead thee to Olympus — to thy throne 
Amid the nectar-nourished deities. 
Forgive the wanton game we played with thee — 
We hasten now to loose those chafing bonds : 
'Twas but a trick to try thy fortitude. 



The Ra7isomed Captive. 109 

Earth. — Away, base flatterer, thy reign is o'er. 
The spell dissolved, the weary burden raised 
From my crushed heart! Earth shall no longer 

bow 
In vile allegiance to thy fiendish rule. 
The song ot Hope hath soothed my walling woe, 
The lifted hand of halo-circled Faith 
Hath raised my glances heavenward at last ; 
And from the glowing heart of Charity 
Warmth, light, and life, shall animate once more 
The dying heart of Error-fettered Earth. 

Violence i^to Pa(}ANISm). — Your arts are vain — 

all vain. One struggle more 
To grasp again the prev we must not lose — 
ril make the effort. Bv my darkest frown 
And direst threats the conquest shall be won. 
(SJie approaches Earth.) —Think not, O coward, to 

escape us thus ! 
Thou art our prey. Was not the compact sealed 
Ages ago, when Israel bowed down, 
And offered costly sacrifice to Baal? 
Yon shining train can not release thee now — 
Thy fetters are too firmly riveted. 
Our temples rear their heads from every land ; 
Before our shrines tliy children prostrate lie, 
In servile homage to our gods of clay. 
Haste thee to join us. What ? Dost thou refuse ? 
Nay, then, I'll force thee, and thv craven heart 
Shall tremble to its centre ! False one I Come ! 

\RusJlcs forward. 



iio Beside the Western Sea. 

Enter Religion [or Truthj, bearing the cross, and 
followed by Mercy and VIRTUE. 

Truth. — Demons, avaunt! Fly, vile deluders, 

flv! 
See ye this Cross? It is the sword of Truth, 
The weapon of the world's new Conqueror! 
To-day, on Calvary, a Victim hung, 
And, by His death on this empurpled cross, 
Won the blest triumph o'er thee. Violence, 
And thee, O impious Idolatry! 
The Paschal Lamb, bv mystic words foretold, 
By mystic types prefigured, was, this day. 
On this new altar, this most precious cross, 
Offered in blest, atoning sacrifice. 
The world's redemption, by His royal blood, 
Is lully, freely gained. Your reign is o'er, 
O demon tyrants ! Back, then, to your home, 
In darkest Hades ! Hide for ever there, 
{^Advances) Or bow before the Saviour's conqu'ring 

cross. 
The standard pure of all-subduing Truth ! 

[Paganism and Violence hastily retreat. 
Truth.— Rejoice, O ransomed captive ! let thy 

tears 
For ever cease ! Thy starless night is past. 
Behold the glory of thine endless day ! 
By death, thy wayward children are redeemed; 
By death, eternal life is freely w^on ! 
To gain the souls so precious in His sight, 
The Son of God hath offered up His life ; 
And now the Father's wrath, appeased, hath changed 



The Ransomed Captive. 1 1 1 

To an unfading- smile of tenderness 
And reconciliation, most complete. 
Mercy, His gentle messenger, hath come 
To bring thy ransom, and to loose thy bonds. 

(Earth tlirowing Jierself at the feet ^/Mercy.) 
Earth. — Pardon, most blessed minister of grace, 
The insults offered by the daring hands 
Of my deluded children to the King, 
The sole and Sovereign Lord of once-bright Earth. 
I have been forced to bear upon my brow 
The weary weight of sin-polluted shrines — 
Of temples reared to gods of vilest clay. 
1 have been forced to see the revels foul, 
And pageants proud, of base Idolatry ; 
To feel the tramp of war's destroying hoof, 
The blighting steps of rampant vice and crime. 
Crushing upon my heart — to echo back. 
O'er all my shrinking hills, and through the depths 
Of sighing forests, the most direful sounds 
Of fiendish orgies — shrieks and wails of woe. 
Sent from m}^ children's overburdened hearts. 
Now, at thy feet, sweet Mercy, lo ! I kneel, 
Weighed still by sense of foul un worthiness. 

Mercy {raising lie r). — Pardon in full for crimes of 
deepest dye 
Is freely promised to repentant hearts — 
Thy children shall receive the blessed boon. 
And now lift up ihy drooping brow again, 
And let the beaming Eden-smile return, 
In radiance o'er thv realm, now purified 
From every blot and foul, sin-blighting stain. 



1 1 2 Beside the Western Sea. 

Poor, fettered hands, how have they borne the 

clasp 
Of these vile cords? My strength shall rend them 

now. 
Away, ye signs of basest servitude ! 

\Breaks the cords ^ and throws them from her. 
Rejoice, poor Earth ! Thou art for ever free ! 
Truth. — I greet thee, favored one, regenerate 
Earth, 
And I will be thy gentle sovereign ! 
My potent arm shall hurl the idol down 
From its proud place, and plant my standard there ; 
And each unhallowed fane shall be transformed 
Into a temple of the living God. 
The bloodless sacrifice of Calv'ry's Lamb 
For ever offered on the sin-cleansed shrine 
Shall henceforth be ; and smiling heaven will bless 
With every grace and Eden-loveliness 
The ransomed realm, where now begins the reign 
Of heav'n-sent Virtue and eternal Truth ! 

Earth. — All hail, all hail, O clear-eyed, heav- 
enly Truth ! 
I bow in fond allegiance unto thee. 
What rapture thrills my heart, what joy illumes 
My blooming plains, and lends a brighter glow. 
Like smiles of heaven, to the rich brilliancy 
Of its fair sunlight ! Dewy tears of bliss 
Rest in the radiant eyes of gentle flowers. 
That send their fragrance, like sweet incense, up — 
Their new, fond tribute to the conqu'ring Lord. 
The wildwood choir have learned Redemption's 
song, 



The Ransomed Captive. 1 1 3 

And dancing- rills bear on the joyous strain, 
In gentle murmurs, to the waiting sea, 
That swells in louder cadence, endlessly, 
The glorious anthem. Hasten, blessed Truth, , 
With thy fair band of sister virtues, now, 
Through every nation of my ransomed realm, 
And bear the precious tidings to those hearts 
That sigh in darkness for the hoped-for dawn ! 
May all my children, 'neath thy gentle yoke. 
In glad allegiance bow I 

Truth. — Ay, we will go. 

Armed with the cross, salvation's blessed sign. 
And thou shalt follow in our train, fair Earth. 
Eiror is not yet conquered utterly — 
It will return, and use its deadliest arts 
To stay our triumph-progress. Blood must flow — 
The blood of martyrs — which shall nourish thus 
Faith's newh'-planted seed. By that blest tide, 
So freelv laved, it shall become, at last, 
A stately tree. Amid its spreading boughs 
The captive birds, the weary human souls. 
Flying from Error's snares, shall freedom find, 
And safest shelter. Thev who thus shall wash 
Their garments white in their own cleansing blood. 
Shall bear the palm of victory on high ; 
And chant a new, eternal song of " praise 
And benediction to the Lamb once slain, 
Whose death has won our new, undying life." 

Earth. — Once more, O star-eyed Hope, ere we 
depart 
(^n this blest mission, sing thv soothing strain, 



114 Beside the Western Sea. 

And in its sweet refrain let all unite: 
" Glory to God on high, and peace to Earth ! " 
Hope. — Blend your sweet notes with mine, O 
sisters fair. 
And let all hearts the chorus blest prolong- ! 

Faith, Hope and Charity, sing together. {Atr—''Les 
Anges dans tes Montagues.'') 

Angels sung our glorious song 

When our Lord in Bethlehem lay : 
Still the bright, seraphic throng 
Chant it on this blessed day : 
{Chorus.) Gloria in excelsis Deo. 

Clear o'er Calvary's mystic height 
Still the glorious strains resound ; 

E'en through dark and dreadful night, 
E'en through direst gloom profound : 
{Chorns.) Gloria in excelsis Deo. 

In the radiant Easter dawn, 

From His tomb the notes arise, 
For the night is past and gone, 
Sunlight dawns in fadeless skies: 
(Chorus^ Gloria in excelsis Deo. 

[Exeunt oinnes, singing chorus. 



The Ransomed Captive. 1 1 5 

Scene IV. — Enter Child of Earth. She sings. 
{Air — " Je suis la Bcrgere Fidele.'") 

O blissful and radiant heaven, 

Fair dwelling of freedom and light ! 
Soon, soon shall these fetters be riven, 
Soon, soon shalt thou dawn on my sight. 
The night of pain is o'er — 
Nevermore 
Shall its shadows chill my heart, 

The restless night is o'er, 
The sunlight can never depart. 

Peace enters, unobserved^ and joins the refrain. 
O hasten, Lord, the day 

Of martyr victory. 
When, freed from bonds of clay, 

My soul shall speed to Thee ! 

Child of Earth greets Peace. 

Child of Earth. — O olive-crowned Peace, I 
have found thee at last, 
And the storm of my anguish for ever is past ! 
Thy spell hath been laid on the world-fevered brow. 
And sweet is the calm that encircles me now ; • 
I have conquered at last, I've successfully wrought, 
I have found the blest treasure so ceaselessly sought ; 
Thy wings have enfolded my pain-tortured breast, 
And gladness succeedeth its wailing unrest. 
Thou changest the passionate cry of despair 
To the music of praise, and the murmur of prayer; 
There is bahn e'en on Earth for its suff'ring and woe, 
For Tiulb. hath reflected her heaven below. 



1 1 6 Beside the Western- Sea. 

Ah ! blest be the day when the wanderer heard, 
In Faith's holy temple, the soul-soothing word ; 
When the tear of repentance suffused the proud 

eye, 
And the haughty heart heaved with contrition's 

soft sigh. 
And, humbled and grateful, she bowed and adored 
The God of the Christian, her Master and Lord. 
Thrice-blessed the dawn of that glorious day. 
When the baptismal tide washed her guilt-stains 

away, 
And, robed in her white festal garment, she sliared 
The banquet of love, for His children prepared. 
How perfect, how full, is the answer returned 
To the prayer of the heart that so restlessly yearned ! 
One longing remains: 'tis to wing my glad flight 
To the kingdom eternal, the dwelling of light. 
Soon, soon 'twill be granted, and with the glad 

throng 
This martyr shall sing the victorious song ; 
In garments washed white in the blood of the 

Lamb, 
This victor shall rise with the conquering palm. 
O hasten, bright dawn of that glorious day, 
When my spirit, released from the thraldom of 

clay. 
Through the portals of death triumphant shall 

spring. 
Heaven's song on her lips, and its light on her wing ! 
Peace. — O daughter of Earth, lo ! thy ransom is 

near ; 
Stern trial awaits thee, but solace is here ! 



The Ransomed Captive. 1 1 7 

I bless thee, I charm thee, from fear and from snare, 
With the armor of strength, and the bright shield 

of prayer. 
Faint not, till the tumult of battle is done — 
Soon, soon 'twill be ended, the victory won ; 
The crown of the martyr shall gleam on thy brow, 
Heaven's glory, eternal, awaiteth thee now. 
The rack and the torture, death's anguish and pain, 
Shall win life unfading, and break the loath'd chain. 
On, conqueror, on 1 With thy strength-giving blood 
Enrich the new Church — let it lave in its flood. 
Child of Earth. — I am ready, fair guide, I am 

armed for the strife — 
On the altar of Faith let me offer my life. 
Let me poui' the libation ; the hour grows late, 
The victim is crowned: must the sacrifice wait? 
Joy, joy ! the}^ are coming! Ah, blissful release! 
It is mine ! m.ine, at last ! let us meet them, fair 

Peace. 
They thirst for my blood ! Ah, did they but know 
How willing the sacrifice — quick ! let us go ! 

\Exeunt, 



1 1 8 Beside the Western Sea. 

Scene V. — Enter Truth and Virtue, and seat 
themselves on thro7tes. Mercy and Peace stand 
on each side. 

Truth. — Let us rejoice, sweet sister. Earth is 

ours — 
Her children hail the sacred sign of Truth, 
And bow in humblest homage to its God. 
Ah I this is blissful triumph, this is joy, 
That wakes in angel hearts a deeper thrill. 
And fills the echoing courts of joyous heaven 
With new, enraptured harmonies. Once more, 
As in that happy time of Eden-bhss, 
Our peaceful empire is established here, 
Blest by the promise of our Lord and King: 
That ne'er again shall demon foes prevail 
O'er His fair Church, that on her radiant brow 
Bears, firmly stamped, her Founder's seal of Truth. 
Virtue. — Ay, and her shining robes — how bright 

their gleam ! 
They gained that lustre from the blessed tide 
Which, with its royal dye, hath stained thy sign, — 
The peaceful sword, the all-subduing cross. 
And on her radiant breastplate, lo ! I read 
The priestly motto, " Holiness to the Lord ! " 
How fresh, how fadeless, is her loveliness ! 
Ages have passed since that strange tragedy 
Of pain-fraught Calv'ry, yet she standeth now 
As fair, as youthful, as when then she sprung 
Into brio^ht beinof from the sacred stream 
That flowed adown the mystic mount of woe. 



The Ransomed Captive. 119 

Mercy. — How many a sad, sin-burdened human 

soul 
Hath laved in that all-cleansino^ sea of prace ! 
Yet full, exhaustless, lo ! it gusheth still 
From its pure source in Love's o'erflowing heart. 
Peace. — And O how fondly do my shelt'ring 

wings 
Rest o'er each sin-washed soul, as o'er that pair 
Who walked in fair, primeval guiltlessness 
In heaven-reflecting paradise. How great, 
How precious, in our Master's sight must be 
The souls His fiat drew from nothingness, 
And stamped with his own image, and for whom 
He stooped to their weak nature's frail disguise; 
And when the time of sacrifice was come, 
And He would then put off that mystic robe. 
His creatures' cruel hands performed the deed. 
Ay, He, their hidden God, permitted them 
To give him death, that He might bring them life ! 
i\nd even now, the priceless legacy 
Of His own sacred flesh, still deeply hid 
In the strange mask of mortals' daily food. 
He gave these favored souls; and they shall feast 
Upon this Bread of Life until the end 
Of Tmie's mysterious reign. O privilege 
Ne'er given to the sinless angel-band, 
Yet freely lavished on ungrateful clay ! 
O mystery of Love ! O mighty power 
Of the pure God of Virtue and of Peace, 
Of tender Mercy and all-conqu'ring Truth! 



1 20 Beside the Western Sea. 

E?itcr Faith. 

Faith. — Sweet sovereigns, your grateful subject, 
Earth, 
And her bright children, whom ye have subdued, 
Crave gracious audience from their rulers fair. 
She of the dusky brow and gleaming zone — 
Weird, mystic Africa— hath led the train; 
Asia, the dreamy-eyed and rose- wreathed, next; 
Majestic Europe, with her queenly tread. 
And cross-crowned brow, succeedeth ; then the last, 
The youngest of the treasure-laden band. 
And best-loved daughter of our ransomed Earth, 
The newly- won America. They come 
To pay their willing meed of gratitude 
To heav'n-sent Virtue and eternal Truth. 

[^Exit Faith. 

E7iter Earth, attended by Faitei, Hope and Charity, 
and followed by AFRICA, Asia, Europe, and 
America. 

Earth. — Most welcome rulers, gentlest sover- 
eigns. 
Receive the tribute of your subjects' love ! 
Approving heaven hath blest your earthly reign — 
Your golden reign of happiness and peace. 
Ages of bliss have sweetly, gently rolled 
Since Earth's Redeemer won the priceless boon 
Of blest regeneration, 3^et no cloud 
E'er dims the brightness of the Father's smile, 
Which sheds soft benisons o'er ransomed souls. 
And brings sweet sense of pardon and of peace 
To my long-burdened heart. Before your throne, 



TJic Ransomed Captive, 1 2 1 

Virtue fair, and ever-blessed Truth, 

1 bow in fondest, deepest thankfulness ! [She kneels^ 
My children blend their gratitude with mine, 

And give the tribute of their willing love 
Unto their bright celestial sovereigns, (They kneel.) 
To whose sweet influence and guidance blest 
They owe their progress o'er the path of right — 
The path that leads to never-ending bliss. (They rise.) 
Asia. — I was the first to learn th}' teachings 
pure, 

clear-eyed Faith ! The first to hear his voice 
Who, in the wilderness, prepared the way 

For the Messiah's coming. In my realm 

Is many a hallowed spot, where Israel bowed 

Before the living God, when, dimly seen 

In mystic types, the wondrous Sacrifice 

Was offered on Jehovah's holy shrine : 

The mount about whose lofty summit played 

The lightnings of His pow'r, when awe-struck man 

Received the heav'n-sent law: the lonely wild 

Where lay the sacred prophet of the Lord, 

Weary and travel- worn, yet won new strength 

From mystic nourishment, by ravens brought. 

Ay, many a spot revered by that blest race 

Who erst enjoyed the benisons of heaven, 

1 keep within my fair domain. Ay, more 
And purer treasures are yet hidden there : 
The lonely cave, the favored dwelling-place 
Of Israel's unknown God. The humble home 
Of His pure childhood, bleakest Nazareth, 
Where, docile to His blessed Mother's word. 
He dwelt concealed until His time should come. 



122 Beside the Western Sea. 

1 he hallowed stream, Vvhose bright baptismal wave 
" jNlirrored the sacred dove" with snowy wings, 
Descending softly o'er the Saviour's brow. 
The woods, the deserts lone, the busy towns, 
Where He, the meek and lowly Teacher, went, 
And in His soul-entrancing tones subdued 
The rebel hearts of error-burdened men. 
The crested waves of depthless Galilee, 
Upon whose shore He rested, faint and lone. 
Yet wearied not in His sweet task of love ; 
Upon whose azure breast the majesty 
Of nature's God revealed itself, when He 
Walked safely o'er the tranquil, spell-bound wave, 
Or calmed its fur}^ with His " Peace ! be still ! " 
The haughty city, on v/hose turrets fair, 
And stately palaces. His yearning gaze, 
Tear-dimmed, yet loving, lingered, when the 

thought 
Thrilled VN^ith keen agony His tender soul, 
How she, the cherished, v/hom He came to save, 
And would have folded in the sheltering wings 
Of His redeeming love, yet turned away, 
Scorning the off' ring of her God and King, 
And walked, with haughty tread, to death and woe. 
Sad, sad Gethsemane, which through the night — 
That drearest night of sorrow — saw the pangs, 
The anguish, of her God ; whose barren soil 
Was moistened with the m3'stic dew of blood; 
Whose air, in the lone midnight, pitying rang 
His wailing cry : '' Let the dread chalice pass, 
If it be possible ; yet Thy will be done. 
My Father ! " And the last, the closing scene 



TJie Ransomed Captive. i 2 



J 



Of that dark drama — lonely Calvary, 

Where rose the throne of Israel's thorn-crowned 

King-, 
The blood-empurpled cross, close to whose foot 
The sinless mother, in her anguish, clung. 
And gazed upon her Son's pain- tortured face, 
Until the mystic wo]*ds, " 'Tis finished," burst 
From those death-pallid lips. The rocky tomb 
Whose bonds the victor broke, and thus from 

death 
Won endless life for lost and erring man. 
The olive-shaded mount, frofn whose bright brow 
The glory of a God revealed itself. 
When He, before the kneeling, awe-struck throng, 
Ascended brightly to His fadeless realm, 
Blessing, with outstretched hands. His faithful band. 
These are the gems, the consecrated spots, 
Which favored Asia shrineth in her heart ; 
For these she giveth all her grateful love 
To thee, O heavenly Truth I whose God bestowed 
Such grace and blessing on her favored clime. 
Africa. — And I, within my deserts vast and 

drear. 
And lotus-freighted river, treasure, too. 
Bright places hallowed by His blest abode : 
The weary paths His f^iithful guardians trod 
To my lone Egypt, from the cruel king 
Who sought his fancied rival's hated life ; 
Where, as the sacred legend verifies 
The mystic words of holy prophecy, 
The idols foul of demon- worshippers — 
Osiris, Isis, all the horrid train — 



124 Beside the Wester^i Sea. 

Down from their pedestals, in terror, fell, 
Soon as those way-worn pilgrims rested on 
The very borders of that realm of sin : 
For e'en the demon rebels dared not raise 
Their hideous standard 'neath the kingly glance 
Of Earth's Child-Conqueror, their dreaded God ' 
Ay, and when all that history of love. 
His life's atonement, w-as fulfilled, again 
Those desert solitudes were sanctified 
By hermit-lives of penance and of prayer. 
There dwelt the desert-saints, alone with God, 
There rose the incense' of their soulful praise. 
There rang the echoes of their holy hymns. 
The youthful Church put on her fairest strength 
Won from the pleadings of an Anthon}^, 
And his blest train of world-forsaking souls, — 
Fair flowers of that sand-strewn solitude, 
Making the desert '' blossom like the rose," 
With graces from the garden of their God. 
In Afric's glowing realm the cross-armed band 
Of Truth's bright warriors won the mystic strife 
O'er dark-robed Error and her demon gods. 
And poured their life-blood out, a precious tide, 
In glorious martyrdom for Christ's dear sake. 
Lo ! from that blest baptism I arose 
Cleansed and transfigured by the light of Faith. 
For this I thank ye, gentle sovereigns ; 
And ma_y your noble conquest never cease, 
Till not a trace of vile idolatry 
Be left in Africa's redeemed domain. 
Europe. — The boon of Faith, by His apostles 
brought — 



The Ransojited Captive. 125 

Those chosen fishers of deluded men — 
Still blesses Europe's smiling, sunlit plains 
And rocky-fortressed isles. Lo, queenly Rome ! 
Crumbled to dust her gods of sculptured clay ! 
A moss-grown ruin, that once haughty pile. 
Whose arches rang with fierce, exulting shouts. 
When savage beasts, athirst for human blood, 
Revelled upon their life's pure tide who stood, 
Firm and serene, with upward-gazing eyes, 
And met their death with songs upon their lips, 
And triumph written on their tranquil brows. 
Ah ! martyr-blood hath cleansed the guilty stain 
Of Earth's imperial mistress, cross-crowned Rome ! 
Fair Christian temples shrine the Victim pure, 
The endless sacrifice of Love. She is 
The sepulchre of purest, saintliest dead — 
'Tis fairer wealth than all the gleaming pomp 
Of foul Idolatry. Behold the seal 
Of Christian Truth, stamped fair on ev'ry land : 
Majestic Spain, and smiling, sunny France, 
The -vine-clad empire of the castled Rhine ; 
Fair Britain, rock-throned mistress of the sea, 
Where once the cruel Druid offered up 
To demon-gods the human sacrifice. 
Now, in the green and smiling English vales. 
O'er Scotland's fragrant heaths and lofty heights, 
The sweet-ton-ed bell rings out its joyous peal 
On the calm Sabbath air. Still fondly shrined 
In Erin's bleeding heart, still firmly stamped 
Upon her cross-sealed brow. Faith safely dwelt 
Throuo;h the lonor nio^ht of sufferin": centuries ; 
Still, pallid mourner, on her rocky shore, 



126 Beside the Western Sea. 

She holds her Master's priceless legacy 
Clasped firmly, fondly, in those fettered hands, 
To her grief-laden heart. Ay, e'en the North, 
Vv'here once the savage Viking ruled supreme, 
And fiercely drank, in Odin's hideous name, 
His foeman's blood from ghastly human skulls. 
Now bends the humbled knee at holy shrines, 
And owns the Christian's God, the God of Truth, 
And olive-sceptred Virtue. This ye've won. 
Sweet messengers of Love's eternal King. 

America. — What rapture thrills the gladsome, 
youthful heart 
Of newly-won America ! Thy hand, 
O heavenly Truth! hath wrought this magic work. 
Scarce three bright centuries have rolled away 
Since spell-bound silence slept in solitude 
Vv^ithin the pathless wilderness, where roamed 
The forest's duskv son, in blindness clad — 
The thoughtful-browed explorer broke the spell 
Where once the Aztec's bloody shrines arose 
In the fair, fragrance-laden South ; and where 
The mighty rivers of the North speed on 
Their march of triumph to the boundless sea, 
Loyola's saintly sons have nobly Avrought — • 
The saving stream upon the swarthy brow 
Hath sweetly flowed, and savage hearts have bowed 
To the Great Spirit's heaven-descended Son ; 
And stately forms have gladly, freely knelt. 
To thank the efforts of the " black-robed chiefs." 
Now, o'er thy new, bright empire, gentle Truth, 
The peaceful fanes of pure Religion rise ; 
And every smiling vale and verdant hill, 



The Ransomed Captive. 127 

And fair, majestic river, beareth on, 

In joyous echo, the harmonious strains 

Of Christian hymns, of Christian pray'r and praise. 

Enter ^CIYMCY. and tJie Sister Arts. 
Science. — Fair, bright-browed Virtue, sweet, 
celestial Truth, 
Let Science greet ye, with her daughters fair. 
The radiant Sister Arts ! We offer here 
Our aid in the most holy cause of Truth. 
The hght that faintly gleamed above the path 
Of pale Philosophy shall fadeless shine. 
In noon-day lustre, o'er the sacred way 
Of Truth's pure sages. Long we toiled in vain 
To guide the erring steps of man aright. 
Fair Earth is ransomed now : our dearest wish 
At last is granted. Since the blessed reign 
Of Truth began, success has crowned our t^sk ; 
And many a pure-souled scholar, bending low, 
In lonely cell, above the sacred page, 
Hath felt my strong, inspiring power, when thoughts 
Depthless and pure, have gleamed upon his brain, 
And flowed beneath his consecrated pen. 
The Sacred Word, the wisdom-breathing page. 
Which wrought such magic in the cause of Truth, 
When wily Error spread her sophist snares 
And specious reasonings o'er the path of man : 
These potent weapons which, with holy skill, 
Have parried oft the demon's fiercest thrusts, 
1 offer here, and may they be preserved 
Long in the sacred armory of Truth ! 

[Science offers volumes and manuscripts. 



128 Beside the Western Sea. 

Music. — I rule the sweet, harmonious strain ; I 
bring 
The gentle offering of lute and lay. 
My thrilling cadences rang firm and clear 
From martyr-lips, and through the caverned depths 
Of dark, sepulchral catacombs arose, 
And woke a strange, mysterious thrill of fear 
Within the startled heart of pagan Rome. 
And when the night of persecution passed, 
My clear, triumphant anthems proudly swelled 
Through vast cathedral aisles, that echoing rang ; 
Or through the small, secluded chapel stole 
In the soft murmur of the vesper hymn, 
Soothing with sweet, seraphic melody 
The burdened hearts of sorrow and of care — 
Calming the storm of wrath, with magic spell, 
And conquering the demon of despair. 

\Offers lyre and music. 

Poetry. — I light, I sway, the bard's inspired 
dream, 
I bid him wake his purest, noblest lays ; 
Full manv an ode to Virtue and to Truth 
Hath thrilled the listening and enraptured world, 
And wrought blest service in Religion's cause. 

Eloquence. — I rule the silver tongues of those 
who sway 
The spellbound throng with magic eloquence; 
Whose bright, anointed brows and glowing eyes 
Are lit, transfigured, with the holy flame. 
When, in their burning words, the sacred truths 
Of pure Religion are as fiery darts 
To pierce the captive, awe-struck souls of men. 



The Ra7isomed Captive. 129 

Painting. — I guide the gifted hand which brightly 

blends 
The rainbow tints, the hues of gorgeous flowers. 
The starry radiance of bright-winged birds, 
The sunset glory, all earth's loveliness, 
Upon the glowing canvas. In that land 
Whose artist sons have wrought their glowing 

dreams 
To deck the massive walls of stately fanes, 
I joy to dwell. There, there, I reign supreme. 
Raphael, Correggio, Titian ! — shining names ! 
The sons of genius leave their distant homes, 
And o'er the sounding sea enraptured throng, 
To gaze transfixed, in silent ecstasy. 
Upon the blest Madonna's pictured face — 
The sinless Mother and the Child Divine. 
Ah, holy visions of the artist-soul. 
What aid ye lend to great, eternal Truth ! 
Sculpture. — In that same realm of art and 

loveliness 
Another heart is blest with magic dream, 
And in the deathless marble bids it live, 
In almost breathing beauty — perfect fair, 
Wanting alone the fiat of a god 
To make the finished type of lovely life 
A being real and animate. And all. 
All these bedeck the temples of the Lord : 
And thus I aid ye, gentle sovereigns. 
Ay, more: I bid those stately temples rise, 
The vast cathedrals, with their vaulted domes. 
And pillared aisles, and sculptured turrets, rich 
With tracery rare, and carvings delicate ; 



130 Beside the Westeini Sea. 

And now we bring, as offerings of love, 
The pictured beauty of a holy dream, 

[Painting offers a picture. 
And Israel's Lily, wrought in marble pure. 

[Sculpture gives a statue of tJie Madonna. 

Virtue. — Fair, gifted band, I thank ye in the 
name 
Of my most royal sister, heavenly Truth, 
For your sweet aid and welcome offerings. 
Continue, gentle ones, your blessed work. 
Let Science with her wealth of depthless thought. 
Let Music's thrilling strains and harmonies. 
Fair Poesy's sweet fancies. Eloquence 
With silver voice and magic syllables. 
Art's radiant dreams, and Sculpture's perfect works, 
With Architecture's stately temples blend, 
In union blest, to give the reign of Truth 
A brighter charm, a fit embellishment. 

Truth. — And now 'tis meet, O heaven-favored 
Earth ! 
Who, with thy blooming daughters, offer here, 
Before our throne, the tribute of your love. 
And the fair meed of fervent gratitude, 
That we, your monarchs, render full return 
By words of fond, approving sympathy. 
O ma}^ the freed, regenerate race that dwell 
Within your favored realm press nobly on, 
With firm, unfaltering footsteps, in the path 
Of Virtue and of Truth ! it is the path 
That leads to heaven and to happiness — 
Look upward, dear ones, with the eye of faith ! 
Behold how brightly gleameth, far, yet near, 



Tke Ransomed Captive. 1 3 1 

The fadeless city, with its gates of gold, 

And walls of flashing gems ! The sons of men 

Are the true heirs of all its loveliness, 

If they but follow whither Truth doth lead, 

And list, with docile hearts, to Virtue's voice. 

And now, O dove-eyed Peace, extend thy hands, 

So fraught with benisons, above the heads 

Of the freed mother and her daughters fair, 

And bid them win thy wealth of golden gifts. 

[Earth and the nations kneel. PEACE 
raises her ha^tds over them. 

Peace. — Pvcceive the gifts of white-robed Peace, 
The benisons that ne'er shall cease ; 
And take the wealth I gladly bring, 
The gifts that ever closely cling. 
The sons of Earth, on heart and brow, 
With spells of Peace are bound, e'en now: 
The soul serene, and the heart of Truth, 
That winneth the fadeless bloom of youth; 
The stainless hand and the noble will, 
The lip that is free from a word of ill ; 
The gentle voice, and the tranquil eye. 
Serenely turned to the home on high : — 
These, these are the gifts of the angel Peace, 
These are the blessings that ne'er shall cease. 
Rise, daughters fair, to ye are given 
The richest boons of bounteous heaven. 

Truth. — Fair subjects, let us humbly bow before 
The shining throne of Truth's eternal King; 
There let us give Plim soulful gratitude 
For this most glorious conquest. Let us win 
New benisons, the priceless gifts of prayer. (All kneel?) 



1^2 Beside the Western Sea. 

Great God of Truth ! Thy servants prostrate fall 
Before thy throne, and hail Thee Lord of all 
Thou who hast checked proud Paganism's sway, 
And crushed her idols false, her gods of clay ; 
Thou who hast blessed Thy Truth's eternal reign, 
'^nd freed the captive, Earth, from Error's chain, 
And sent the bright, the world-subduing band 
Of sister virtues to each darkened land, — 
To Thee, O Lord ! our rev'rent hearts we raise 
In grateful prayer, and loftiest notes of praise. 
May every nation bend the willing knee. 
And offer fond allegiance unto Thee ! 
May every soul be cleansed from earthly dross,* 
And bow, submissive, to the conqu'ring cross ! 
So shalt Thou bless Thy Truth's victorious way, 
And change Earth's night to heaven's endless day ; 
So shall the stream of saving mercy flow 
From Thy fair throne o'er ev'ry heart below. 
And Peace, with folded wings, like nestling dove, 
Rest, as in Eden, o'er the home of love, — 
Her new, regenerated home on earth. 
The home made holy by a Saviour's birth. 
Deign still to shed Thy fair, benignant smile 
O'er ransomed Earth, washed pure from Error's 

guile ; 
O'er all her children let that radiant beam 
Of heaven-sent light in new effulgence gleam. 
Till, in bright course, fair Nature moves no more, 
And Thou shalt bid the reign of Time be o'er. 
Then, from reflected radiance, may they rise 
To Light's fair home, beyond the sunlit skies ; 



The Ransomed Captive. 133 

And robed in righteousness, all fetters riven, 
Bask 'neath the gleam of Glory's source, in heaven. 

\^A II rise. 
Ere on our ceaseless mission we depart, 
Let Music wake the lofty hymn of praise 
And holy triumph. In its glorious strains 
Our voices and our hearts shall all unite ; 
And, as we journey o'er our conqu'ring way, 
The joyous notes shall sweetly, firmly swell, 
Until the future's distant ages bear 
Their lofty echo, through the realms of Time, 
To the dim shores of vast Eternity. 

[Exeunt omnes, singing the psalm, ''Laudate 
DomimuHy omnes gentes,'' etc. 



THE NATIVITY. 



PERSONAGES: 

First Sage, or King. 

Second '' " 

Third, '' 

First, Second, and Third Shepherds. 

Angel. 

Herod. 

Rabbi Simon. 

Barah, a Page to Herod. 

Angels, etc. 



The Nativity. 



ACTl. 

Scene I. — A plain near Bethlehem. 
First Shepherd. — How full of solemn mystery 
is night! 
In the weird glimmer of her starry light, 
In the low moaning of the wintry gale, 
In the still stream, enrobed in icy veil, 
In leafless boughs, that point like ghostly fingers, — 
In all things hid, night's solemn secret lingers ! 
O thou mysterious and unseen God, 
Whose seal is stamped upon earth's velvet sod ! 
Whose secrets slumber in each trembling star. 
Whose voice is borne upon the blast afar! 
We worship Thee with humbly offered hearts. 
With souls untaught, yet free from worldly arts. 
We dare not lift the proud, presumptuous eye, 
To read the mysteries of the Deity ; 
We ask not how Thy all-creating hand 
Formed the vast sea, and spread the blooming land ; 
We know Thou'rt God — Ave seek to learn no more: 
Our simple minds, unskilled in sage's lore. 
Shall own Thy might, and tremblingly adore. 



138 Beside the Western Sea. 

Second Shepherd. — This nio-ht hath holv 2:irts. 
A perfect calm 
Descends on earth, hke sweet celestial balm. 
Fair, white-robed Peace, that erst did softly rest 
On Eden's soil, a loved and constant guest, — 
She comes again, and o'er my spirit flings 
The soothing influence of her magic wings, 
While, like long-dimmed, yet sweetest mem'ries, rise 
Bright, blissful visions of lost paradise. 

Third Shepherd. — Brother, that nameless peace 
m}^ soul doth share ; 
1 feel its spell upon the tranquil air. 
The mystic light that from the sacred shrine 
Gleams with a starry radiance divine. 
Shines o'er me novv^, while on my ravished ear 
Steals angel-melody, remote, yet clear. 
My thoughts have found a new, continual theme; 
The holy prophet's blest, inspired dream. 
The strains that thrilled Isaias' sacred lyre. 
When on his lips was laid the living fire, — 
The pi'omise of a Saviour, Avho shall dwell 
A welcome monarch in lost Israel, — 
These musings o'er my spell-bound spirit throng, 
Like the sweet tones of some seraphic song. 
I draw strange pictures of the matchless grace, 
The tender sweetness, of that Saviour's face— 
For, ah I that countenance I cannot see 
Mid the dread lightning-flame of majesty ! 
No, no. He seems a fair and lovely child, 
With smihng brow, and eye serene and mild, 
Yet with that glance of tender, mournful love 
That fills the soft eyes of the brooding dove ; 



The Nativity. 139 

Or, as ye've marked the look, resigned and calm, 
Upon the face of a young victim-lamb, 
Blended with gentle pleading, as the knife 
Aims the dread blow against its guileless life : 
So tender, lamblike, innocent, doth seem 
Messiah's face, that haunts my constant dream. 
But lo ! what glory fills the midnight sky ? 
What bright, celestial legions throng on high ? 

S^All prostrating themselves. 
Lord, veil Thy glory, or Thy creatures die! 

An Angel appears. 

Angel. — Fear not ; we come on love's exultant 
wing. 
And blissful tidings unto earth we bring. 
The night is o'er, and lo, the fadeless morn! 
Messiah reigns, the Saviour Christ is born ! 
Heaven lends to earth its fairest, brightest gem — 
The man-God lies in lowly Bethlehem ! 

S^The Shepherds remain kneeling and gazing 
iipwardy while a tJirong of Angels sing. 

Angels' Hymn. — {^A.ir^ ^^Les Anges dans les campagnes.'') 
Love hath sent a balm for pain. 

Heaven bids earth's sorrows cease ; 
List to the new, celestial strain. 
List to the angels' song of peace ! 
CJioriis. — Gloria in excelsis Deo ! 

Mortals, join the strain we sing, 
Welcome your Redeemer's birth. 



140 Beside the Western Sea. 

Glory to the Lord, our King ! 
Peace to faithful men on earth ! 
Chorus. — Gloria, etc. 

\_In zvhich the Shepherds^ risiitg.join. 

Angel. — Come, favored ones! Concealed in 
lowly guise, 
Poorer than ye, your God and Saviour lies ; 
The low estate, the simple heart, is dear 
To Him who comes the woes of earth to cheer ; 
And simple shepherds first shall bow the knee 
Before the crib of hidden Deity ! 
Haste, then, O faithful watchers on the plain, 
Whose favored ears first heard the seraphs' strain ! 
Away, away, your Sovereign to adore, 
Whose reign shall last till time shall be no more! 

\_Exeunt, singing the chorus of '' Adcste 
Fideles, Venite Adore7nusJ' 



Scene II. 

First King. — O guiding star! when shall our 
journey cease? 
When shall we hail the longed-for Prince of Peace? 
Thy faithful beams have cheered our weary night. 
When will thev show the source of fadeless light? 
How strange, O friends, our pilgrimage doth seem ! 
Like the swift journey through a blissful dream. 
Still safely led, from Eastern climes afar, 
By the sure guidance of yon shining star ! 



TJie Nativity. 141 

Second King.— A}^ and what joy and rev'rent 
awe were mine, 
When first I saw that fair, celestial sign ! 
'Twas at the solemn midnight's mystic hour, 
When visions rise of strange prophetic power, 
W^hen, as I bent above the treasured store 
Of pages rich with Syria's starry lore, 
And prayed to find that pure, yet hidden truth, 
So vainly sought e'en from my earliest youth — 
Yet, baffled still, upon the sable sky 
Turned my wild gaze, and with imploring cry, 
I called upon creation's Lord and King 
Upon my gloom one shining ray to bring : 
Quick came the answer to my eager prayer. 
A silv'ry brightness filled the midnight air, 
And, as a jewel on night's sable crest, 
Yon shining herald sparkled in the west ; 
With heav'nly radiance it smiled, it shone. 
Like a blest ray from the eternal throne. 
While thrilling, clear, yet soft as zephyr's sigh, 
These words seemed wafted from the realms on 

high : 
" Go forth, O searcher ! thou shalt find the truth. 
And win the visions of thine earnest youth ; 
For Israel's King begins His blessed reign — 
The golden age revisits earth again. 
Behold thy guide ! Yon gleaming, heav'n-sent star 
Shall lead thee safely to His home afar. 
Bring richest treasures from thy royal store, 
And at His feet in faith and love adore." 
What bliss, what rapture, thrilled my favored soul ! 
What magic bound me in its blest control! 



142 Beside tJie Western Sea. 

Lowly I bowed upon the dewy sod, 
And paid fond tribute to my new-found God ! 
Then gathered all my gifts of royal worth, 
The rarest treasures of our native earth, 
And hied me forth upon my Western way. 
Led by my starry guide's mysterious ray. 
Scarce had I issued from my city's gate, 
When there I met, urged by the same blest fate, 
Ye, O my brethren ! following, too, the beam 
That sent me on, as through a holy dream. 

Third King. — For we were searchers for the 

. pure and true, 
And thy inspired dream was ours, too. 
We knew Chaldea's weird and ancient lore, 
And read the stars, e'en as a volume, o'er; 
We saw thv herald at the midnis^ht hour. 
We heard the voice with words of wondrous power ; 
We rose, obedient to that summons blest, 
And turned our willing steps toward the W^est. 
O'er many a land those eager feet have passed. 
And we have gained Judea's realm at last. 
Within its limits He we seek must dwell — 
The hope of earth, the heir of Israel ! 
Quick, to the summit of yon rocky hill — 
The star ol faith moves on before us still! 
'Tis gained at last, and, framed in silver light, 
Lo ! a proud city rises on our sight. 
With massive wails, and darkly frowning towers, 
Fair, terraced courts, and olive-shaded bowers. 
Still floats our guide toward that city fair — 
It points our wa}' ! Our Prize is hidden there ! 



The Nativity. 143 

The Jewish capital His home must be — 
There, there at last, our Saviour shall we see ! 
O let us haste where He, our King, is known, 
Where eager worshippers surround His throne. 
Quick, past the gate, amid that joyous throng, 
To join their shouts, to swell their gladsome song ! 

{Exeunt. 



Scene III. — Herod, and Ids attendant, Barah. 

Herod. — Most strange, most wondrous story 
dost thou bring ! 

Three princes, sent from Eastern climes afar, 
Seekiii": the home of Israel's Infant Kins:, 

And guided thither only by a star! 
And they are sages, skilled in starry lore, 

And in the tongue of ev'ry clime can speak; 
And gold and spices from their royal store, 

They bring, as tribute, to the Lord the}' seek ! 
So runs th}' tale, good Barah, that doth seem 

The fevered vision of some star-crazed brain ; 
Yet would I read this strange, be wild 'ring dream, 

And make its truth or baseless folly plain. 
Go, summon Rabbi Simon — he is wise 

In mystic lore, and learned in the law: 
Can tell of dreams that blessed inspired eyes, 

And future scenes those holy seers foresaw. 

{Exit Barah. 

Herod (solus). — Fool, to be tortured by a dotard's 
tale ! 

And vet a nameless terror fills mv soul — 



144 Beside the Western Sea. 

A spell that bids ni}^ inmost spirit quail, 

And holds each thought within its dark control. 
A rival king! A monarch of the Jews ! 

And I, who deemed my earthly bliss complete, 
Must see my fair hopes blighted b}^ this news, 

And throne and kingdom crumble 'ncath my feet 
It shall not be; for, if this tale be true, 

And one hath dared ray rightful crown to claim, 
With ceaseless hate will 1 my foe pursue, 

And with his life blot out his kingly name. 

Enter Rabbi Simon. 

Simon. — Hail, mighty Herod ! hail, our lord and 

king ! 
Thy faithful servant hath thy call obeyed, 
And at thy feet, in humblest offering, 

Lays his poor counsel, and most willing aid. 
Herod. — Thanks, thanks, good Rabbi. Thou 

art welcome here. 
Hast heard the tale these Eastern sages bring? 
It seems a fanc}^ of some brain-sick seer, 
This story of a new-born Hebrew king. 
Simon. — A}^ royal Herod, 'tis most strange, in 

sooth ; 
And 3^et the words of holy prophecy 
Are now fulfilled, and stamp the seal of truth 
Upon these tidings, wondrous though they be. 
Herod. — Ha ! say'st thou so ? It is enough ! yet 

hold! 
I would know more of this bewild'ring news. 
Good Rabbi, have our holy seers foretold 
The birthplace of this ruler of the Jews? 



The Nativity. 145 

Rabbi Simon. — Ay, royal Herod ; rock-girt 
Bethlehem, 

The city ruled by Judah's kingl}^ band, 
Is the blest shrine of Israel's promised gem, 

The longed-for Saviour of our fettered land. 

Herod. — Go, then, wise Rabbi, bid the strangers 
wait 

Until the king shall hear their tidings blest — 
Until the strange adventures they relate 

Of their star-guided journey to the West. 

{Exit Simon. 

Herod (5^/?^^). — My plan is woven as a cunning 
net. 

Hypocrisy shall bind it well and fast ; 
By artful wile my hate shall conquer yet. 

And my unconscious prey be caught at last. 
I'll feign a pious eagerness to know 

The hiding-place of Israel's promised king. 
That I unto that favored spot may go. 

My homage fond and royal gifts to bring ; 
Then will I bid them hither haste again. 

With the glad news we yearningly await, 
They, unsuspecting, will obey, and then 

I'll win the triumph over adverse fate. 
When this usurper's hiding-place I know, 

I'll hither send a true and trusty band, 
To give the death-stroke to m}^ hated foe. 

And wrest the Hebrew sceptre from his hand. 
O happiest plan that ere hath blessed my brain ! 

Hence ! blighting dreams of dark, corroding care ! 
Now, with the zeal I can so truly feign, 

Unto these dreamy sages I'll repair, 

[Exit HEROp. 



146 Beside the Western Sea. 



Scene IV. 

First King. — Our star of hope still cheers our 
sight, 
And earth is blest by heav'n's own light. 
Yon rocky summit, lone and bare. 
Transfigured, gleams serenely fair, 
And shows, upon its radiant side, 
A sleeping city, glorified. 
Until it seems, to mortal eyes. 
The pearly gate of Paradise. 

Second King. — Lo ! how the daj^-star gleameth 
now 
Above yon tower's lofty brow ! 
Brighter and brighter grows its ray ; 
Dark seems the fairest summer's day. 
When matched with thy celestial beams. 
Thou beacon of our brightest dreams ! 

Third King.— O joy! O joy ! it moves no more, 
And our long pilgrimage is o'er ; 
Look, brethren, o'er 3^on rocky hill 
Our guide doth rest, serene and still. 
O Jet us wing our footsteps there. 
The home of Israel's chosen heir! 
His palace blest, His earthly throne 
Amid the mountains, bleak and lone. 
And yet no turret gleaming fair, 
No royal dwelling, rises there — 
A lonely cave, a stable poor. 
Like that wherein the cowherd boor 



The Nativity. 147 

Shelters his charge from tempests chill, 
Is hewn beneath that rocky hill: 
Surel}^ He doth not slumber there, 
For whom yon heaven is not too fair. 

An Angel appears. 

Angel. — Ay, 'tis His home — this humble shed 
Shelters the man-God's royal head ; 
Beneath yon stable roof doth dwell 
The Hope of captive Israel. 
He chose earth's meanest, humblest lot — 
The proud, the worldly, know Him not ; 
A helpless babe, He rests alone, 
Poor, weak, unhonored, and unknow^n. 
His Virgin Mother, Mary mild, 
There kneels beside her Holy Child; 
His foster-father well doth keep 
Adoring vigils o'er His sleep ; 
Poor shepherds, led from yonder plain, 
There bend, His earthly courtier-train ! 
And cattle, thronging where He lies, 
Still own their Lord in mortal guise. 
These are the honors earth doth bring, 
To hail her Saviour and her King ; 
This, all the homage man can give 
To Him who dies that man ma)^ live ! 
Yet heaven is ringing with His name, 
His glory, power, endless fame ; 
And seraphs leave their native skies. 
To guard the hovel where He lies! 
Yet He hath loved this mean estate. 
And shuns the proud, the worldly great ; 



148 Beside the Western Sea. 

And He hath chosen first to wear 
The form of childhood, pure and fair: 
For childlike innocence must be 
Loved by the Lord of purity. 
The poor, the mourners, too, are dear 
To Him who cometh grief to cheer; 
And ye who haste with earthly store, 
Great princes, rich in pomp and lore, 
Must kneel where shepherds knelt before ! 

First King. — 'Tis well ! 'tis well ! We own our 
King, 
We bring our hearts' free offering ; 
And we will bow the willing knee, 
In love's most fond humility. 

Angel. — The humble heart, the guileless soul, 
Shall ever claim love's sweet control. 
When wealth, and rank, and lore are given, 
To aid the search for truth and heaven. 
That heaven the sacrifice will bless. 
And crown the effort with success. 
Thus have ye done : each act, each thought, 
Was given to the God ye sought ; 
On lofty thrones each heart bowed low. 
And God alone ye longed to know. 
Your holy search is not in vain — 
Your toil shall reap its endless gain. 
Haste, then, to bend the humble brow 
Before your loved Redeemer now. 
I am the angel of the Lord — 
The herald of His Sacred Word I 

[They are about to kneel, hut the 
angel prevents them. 



TJie Nativity. 149 

Angel. — Nay, rise, and kneel alone to Him 
Before whose face yon sun is dim, 
Whose o:lorv veils the Cherubim ! 
But follow me, O favored band, 
To yonder cave, your promised land ; 
And look on heaven's fairest gem 
Shrined in the crib of Bethlehem ! 



THE BRIDE THAT NEVER GROWETH OLD. 



THE BRIDE THAT NEVER GROWETH OLD. 



Not hers the hfe that waxeth old 
In face and form of earthly mould ; 
Not hers the beauty carved from clay, 
That bears the brand of dark decay. 
She dwells in youth's immortal prime, 
Nor dreads the ruthless hand of time ; 
For never can its touch erase 
The radiance of her royal face, 
Nor spot nor wrinkle e'er may blight 
Her cheek of bloorn and brow of light. 
Her life-spring flows from source divine, 
Her form is truth's eternal shrine ; 
No clinging trace of earthly clod 
May mar the beauteous bride of God ! 
E'en when the primal curse began 
To work its woe on fallen man, 
She came, in types yet veiled and dim, 
To trace the heavenward way for him. 
She dwelt in Israel's lonely tent, 
In long Egyptian banishment ; 
On Crimson Sea, o'er desert drear. 
She cheered his path of gloom and fear. 
His altar, with its emblem-light, 
Its victim-types and mystic rite, 



154 Beside the Western Sea. 

She made her blest abiding-place, 
And thence bestowed her gifts of grace. 
She spoke, in prophet's potent voice, 
The words that bade his heart rejoice : 
Sweet promise of a glad release 
In advent of the Prince of Peace, 
When He, whose reign should e'er abide, 
Would show, unveiled, His spotless bride,- 
His bride, that never groweth old, 
By sacred canticle foretold. 
It came at last, that blissful reign — 
Da}^ dawned upon the night of pain ; 
And she, that holy spouse, was there, 
Though hidden yet her brightness fair. 
She blessed the cave of Bethlehem, 
When bloomed the bud on Juda's stem ; 
She shed her '' aromatic breath" 
O'er heaven-favored Nazareth, 
She followed where His footsteps led, 
" Who had not where to la}- His head." 
She saw His loving labors wrought, 
She heard the priceless truths He taught ; 
She learned to keep, with Mary's art, 
" His sayings treasured in her heart." 
And when He sought, beside the sea, 
His fishermen of Galilee, 
She smiled upon that chosen band. 
So docile to their Lord's command ; 
And in their train she followed still. 
While Love fulfilled His Father's will. 
And when, as neared His mystic hour. 
He gave the blest commission-power 



The Bride That Never Groweth Old. 155. 

Unto His twelve, assigning each 
His sacred task, ''to preach and teach ;" 
Ay, when He bade His deathless " Rock " 
Give shelter to the world-wide flock, 
Then, then she rent her m3^stic veil, 
And from the shadowy twilight pale 
She rose, in royal grace bedight, 
Upon that Living Rock to plight 
Her willing troth's undying vows 
With Love Divine — her kingly spouse. 
Still brighter grew her beauty's bloom, 
When first, within that " upper room," 
With loving care her Bridegroom spread 
Her nuptial feast of " Living Bread," 
And bade her evermore repeat 
His banquet's consecration sweet. 
Thus saying : " Till the end shall be, 
This do in memory of Me." 
Ah ! never shall that faithful bride, 
Whate'er of weal or wo betide, 
Neglect her sweet and sacred task, 
Her Lord's commemoration-pasch. 
For ever, by anointed hand, 
In ev'ry age, in ev'ry land. 
It hath been, as it shall be, done 
From rising dawn to setting sun. 
She lingered where His watch He kept, 
E'en while His loved disciples slept. 
And from His heart, by anguish riven, 
New vigor to her life was given ; 
And, moistened with its bloody dew, 
Her bridal robe yet fairer grew. 



156 Beside the Wester7i Sea. 

And brighter still its beauty glowed 

When love's sweet stream more swiftly flowed 

Through all the morrow's dismal morn, 

By scourges wrung, and cruel thorn. 

Upon her poured, in fuller flood, 

His boon of life-bestowing blood, • • 

Adown the mystic mountain sent, 

From hands and feet by mortals rent ! 

But when love's " Consummatus est " 

Proclaimed salvation's tidings blest — 

Ay, when from out His opened side 

Was poured her full baptismal tide, 

What radiance of perfected grace 

Enshrined her form, entwined her face ! 

She made His cross her royal throne, 

Upon her brow His thorn-wreath shone. 

And o'er her queenly form she threw 

His " seamless robe " of regal hue. 

But not on ransomed earth alone 

Is reared her bright, immortal throne, 

For love to her dominion gave 

The penance-realm beyond the grave. 

With Him, that drear abode she sought, 

With Him, from weary exile brought 

The elder saints, the Hebrew band, 

Triumphant, to their promised land ; 

And with Him, robed in brightest bloom. 

She burst the portals of the tomb. 

And showed His risen form to her 

Who greeted first the Conqueror. 

Not long on earth its Saviour stayed, 

For now the mighty debt was paid, 



The Bride That Never GrowetJi Old. 1 5 7 

Yet depthless is the heart of love ; 

So, ere He sought His throne above, 

He bade His pure, immortal bride 

Within His earthly realm abide. 

To give, upon his Living Rock, 

Safe shelter to His helpless flock. 

New gifts she won, new strength and light. 

To keep her sacred charge aright. 

The Spirit of eternal truth 

Confirmed love's boon of fadeless youth, 

When, once again, in *' upper room," 

Still brighter grew her beauty's bloom. 

As on her pure apostles came 

The Pentecostal tongues of flame ; 

And thev who fled but yesternight 

Went forth, undaunted, to the fight, — 

Went forth to crush the demon foe. 

And lay his pagan standard low. 

But long and deadl}^ was the strife 

Against the monster's hydra-life ; 

A mighty nation owned his sway, 

Fast fettered to the gods of clay. 

She vowed beneath her hausfhtv hand 

To crush the Christian's hated band, 

And in a depthless gulf of shame 

To fling, ere long, His very name. 

Then gushed t'ne glorious martyr-blood 

O'er all her realm — a boundless flood. 

By crisping flame, and cleaving steel. 

By rending rack, and riving wheel. 

By wildest beasts of desert lands. 

Upon the dread arena-sands — 



158 Beside the Western Sea. 

By every death, with anguish rife, 
She sought to crush the Christian life. 
Yet all in vain ; though ne'er was heard 
From Christian lips one vengeful word : 
They passed to death, serene and calna, 
As is the helpless victim-lamb. 
Yet waxed they stronger, day by day, 
While weaker grew her tyrant sway, 
Until at last the saving sign 
Bright promise bore to Constantine. 
Ah! then the fiend bewailed his loss, 
While shone that bright, redeeming cross. 
And from their thrones the Christian hurled 
The idols of a conquered world ! 
Then brightly gleamed, by furnace tried. 
The beauty .of the deathless bride ! 
From rock-built throne, beneath the dome 
Reared o'er the heart of pagan Rome, 
Through ages, bright with cloudless ray, 
Spread o'er the world her sacred sway. 
She raised the stricken from the dust, 
Redeemed the lost, sustained the just, 
While Science wrought her labors grand, 
And Art grew fair beneath her hand ; 
The savage owned her voice of might, 
That showed his steps the path of right — 
That turned aside his vengeful blow, 
And bade him bless his hated foe. 
Anon the clouds grow dark above. 
And storms assail the spouse of love. 
The crescent rose, with baleful light. 
And fain would crush her standard bright ; 



The Bride That N'ever Groweth Old. 159 

And rebel subjects oft disown 
The sway of truth's eternal throne. 
And still they strive, with cruel art, 
To rend her seamless robe apart ; 
Yet paled the Moslem Crescent's dross, 
Before the glory of the Cross. 
And rebel hands shall strive in vain 
To rend the robe of truth in twain — 
Her Spouse shall check the demon-pride 
That seeks to harm His chosen bride, 
While Mary keeps her vigil blest 
O'er her, as o'er His infant rest, 
And Joseph guards — O, fond his care 
As when he watched the childhood fair ! 
O holy Church, O shrine of truth, 

beauty bright with endless youth ! 

1 bow before thy rock-built throne. 
My loyal heart thy swa}^ shall own ; 
And till its tones are stilled in death. 
My voice shall praise, with ev'ry breath. 
The spouse by sacred bard foretold : 
The bride that never groweth old I 



SURSUM CORDA. 



Lift thy heart, O sordid schemer ! 
Lift thy heart, thou idle dreamer! 
Turn from worldly plans perplexing, 
Turn from visions vain and vexing ; 
Leave the fast-corroding treasures, 
Leave the false and fleeting pleasures. 
From the world's delusive ghtter, 
And its Dead Sea fruitage bitter ; 
From its pageant-phantoms gliding. 
From its glories ne'er abiding. 
Shifting scene and baseless vision, 
False mirage of joys Elysian : 
Sursum corda. 

From its wild, discordant voices, 
Grief that wails, while mirth rejoices ; 
Festal songs with dirges blending. 
Glees in mournful cadence ending; 
Jarring notes, that, born in sweetness, 
Die in harshest incompleteness ; 
From the silv'ry tones that call thee. 
From the strains that would enthrall thee, 
Trumpet-blast of fame and glory, 
Vain ambition's mocking story ■^ 
Syren song that sweetly urgeth 
Where destruction's torrent surgeth : 
Sursum corda. 



Siirsum Cor da. i6i 

Upward to the stores that fail not, 
Upward to the dreams that pale not ; 
Sacred schemes, sweet rest bestowing, 
Dreams with heaven's own brightness glowing ; 
Earnest toil for fadeless treasures, 
Blissful search for purest pleasures ; 
Thought sublime, and aim supernal, 
Hero-strife for fame eternal : — 
Turn to these thy life's endeavor, 
Look not downward, linger never — 
E'en beyond the shining portal, 
Upward to the joys immortal : 
Sursum corda. 

List the echo, softly ringing. 
Of the far-off seraph singing ! 
Bid those wondrous tones be clearer, 
Up ! that thou may'st listen nearer, 
For no minor wail of sadness 
Mars that choral strain of gladness ; 
In its notes no discord blending, 
Checks the tale of bliss unending. 
To that song of deathless sweetness. 
Rife with full and glad completeness; -■^' 

To that pasan tone of glory — 
Fame's eternal triumph-story : 
Sursum corda. 



THE MIST. 



I WATCHED the folding of a soft white wing 

Above the city's heart ; 
I saw the mist its silent shadows fling 

O'er thronged and busy mart. 
Softly it glided through the Golden Gate, 

And up the shining bay ; 
Calmly it lingered on the hills, to wait 

The dying of the day. 
Like the white ashes of the sunset fire, 

It lay within the West, 
Then onward crept above the lofty spire, 

In nimbus-wreaths to rest. 
It spread anon — its fleec}^ clouds unrolled, 

And floated ofentlv down : 
And thus I saw that silent wing enfold 

The babel-throated town. 
A spell was laid on restless strife and din, 

That bade its tumult cease ; 
A veil was flung o'er squalor, woe, and sin. 

Of purity and peace. 
And dreaming hearts, so hallowed by the mist, 

So freed from grosser leaven — 
In the soft chime of vesper bells could list 

Sweet, echoed tones of heaven ; 
Could see, enraptured, when the starlight came, 

With lustre soft and pale, 
A sacred city crowned with " ring of flame," 

Beneath her mistv veil. 



THE TEAR-CLEANSED SCROLL. 

[Having heard this legend related by one of the Paulist Fathers, 
during their recent missions in this city, and being much struck with 
the beautiful lesson therein contained, I have attempted, rudely enough, 
to render into rhyme this sweet and tender story of the Ages of P'aith. ] 

Ah ! list, I pray ye, to a legend olden, 
A quaint, sweet story of the ages golden. 

Rehearsed in rudest rhyme ; 
Yet hides the tale a teaching pure and tender. 
That bids each heart the tearful tribute render, 

E'en in our colder time. 

The awesome midnight, silent, dark, and solemn, 
Hung over stately street, and arch, and column, 

In the proud city's heart; 
Save where the "olive star," serenely shining. 
Showed the new Bethlehem of love's enshrining, 

Lone, hidden, and apart. 

There softest murmurs broke the silence hoh^ 
For gary-robed monks were bowed in worship 
lowly 

Within that radiance dim ; 
iVhile calmly slept the worldly throng, unheeding. 
Thro' the lone midnight rose their blended pleading. 

And sweetiN' chanted hvmn. 



164 Beside the Western Sea. 

The strain was hushed in sudden fear and wonder, 
Wide flew the door, its fast'ning wrenched asunder 

By herce and frenzied blow ; 
A giant man stood framed within the portal. 
Soul-rent he seemed with anguish more than mortal. 

With wild, supernal woe. 

" Haste, father abbot, ere I sink unshriven, 
In vision dread my soul hath well-nigh riven 

Its prison- walls of clay." 
The abbot rose : '' I come, my son, to hear thee — 
Be patient, brethren, 'tis a case, I fear me, 

That will not brook delay." 

"Nay, father, here let all my sins be spoken, 
Be thus with shame the haughty spirit broken, 

And crushed the stubborn will. 
Bold were my crimes, and loud be their revealing, 
The cancer-wound must needs have sharpest healing, 

To save from deadlier ill." 

The sinner knelt, in self-abasement lowly. 

And told his woes before those watchers holy — 

Sooth, 'twas a fearful tale ; 
So foul, so dark, that picture, penance-painted. 
Well might those simple hearts, by guilt untainted, 

With shudd'ring horror quail. 

That horror changed to reverence, deep and tender, 
That kneeling form seemed garlanded with splendor, 

And by its side they saw 
A figure fair, so robed in dazzling whiteness, 
That scarce their gaze could bear the Tabor-bright- 
ness 

That filled their souls with awe. 



TJie Tear- Cleansed Scroll. 165 

The crimson wreath, like ruby-jewels gleaming, 
Showed where that forehead, so divinely beaming, 

A thorny garland wore ; 
One wounded hand bestowed its tender blessing, 
And one unto His Sacred Heart seemed pressing 

The open scroll it bore. 

And on that scroll the list of foul transgression. 
At each clear word of penitent confession, 

Waxed ever faint and dim, 
Till evV}^ line of that so dismal tracing. 
By love's command, and sorrow's skill effacing, 

Fled from the record grim. 

And when, at last, the woful tale was spoken, 
And died the voice, in sobbing murmurs broken, 

The gemmed brow bent above ; 
The nail-rent hand received the tear-drop shining, 
With fondest care each priceless pearl enshrining 

Within its clasp of love. 

O'er the dark list it poured the rain of brightness 
Till all one gleam of fair, resplendent whiteness 

Was now that dismal scroll. 
And then they knew, those joyful watchers holy. 
How contrite tears and self-abasement lowly 

Had cleansed that guilty soul. 

Said I not rightly of this legend olden — 
This quaint, sweet story of the ages golden. 

Though told in rudest rhyme — 
Reveals it not a lesson pure and tender. 
That bids each heart the tearful tribute render. 

E'en in our colder time? 



1 66 Beside tke Westei^n Sea. 

O grant me, Lord, such gift of true contrition, 
And be Thou near, my soul's benign Phjsiciaji, 

To soothe its sickly fears I 
With Thy dear hand blot out my dismal story 
Flooding its record with the cleansing glory 

Of my repentant tears. 



AN UNKNOWN SISTER OF CHARITY. 

[Among the list of victims to the frightful yellow fever, which, a 
few years since, so devastated the South, was registered *' An unknown 
Sister of Charity." Unknown by the worldlings, indeed, but known 
and honored in heaven, are those angels of earth, the heroic Sisters of 
Charity.] 

Unknown to fashion's tinsel throng, 

The soulless and the vain ; 
Unknown where ringeth folly's song, 

And pleasure's syren strain. 
Unknown where fickle fame bestows 

Her evanescent crown, 
While, for a fleeting instant, glows 

The light of earth's renown. 
Unknown in life, unknown in death, 

Thus would she live and die — 
She needed not the trumpet-breath 

To waft her deeds on high ; 
But where the plague, at noon-day, trod 

O'er earth his fatal wav, 



An Unknown Sistei^ of Charity. 167 

And where, beneath his blighting rod, 

The stricken thousands lay ; 
Where fiercely burned the fever-flame, 

And rung the dying groan, 
Full well the Sister's holy name 

And gentle face were known. 
And while life's latest murmur breath'd 

On her its blessings fond. 
Her fadeless coronal was wreath'd 

The "jasper walls" beyond. 
She saw, in every tortured one, 

Her anguish-laden Lord ; 
For Him her holy work was done. 

From Him it claimed reward. 
What ! though no flaunting banners wave. 

Where mercy's martyr sleeps ; 
What! though above her nameless grave 

No earthly mourner weeps ; 
When soared her soul, on eager wing. 

Beyond the gates of pain, 
The white-robed legions of the King 

Were her triumphal train. 
And where Love wrote her blessed name 

Above His radiant throne. 
In heaven's light of fadeless fame 

She lives, forever known. 



THE GOLDEN SEA. 

A Song for the golden sea ! 
A song for the wide and wondrous main ! 
For the wind-swept waves of the golden grain 

That sway on the sunlit lea ! 

Over the mighty deep, 
Over the waste of the waters vast, 
The stormy rack and the roaring blast 

In Nemesis-fury sweep. 

Woe for the ships that gave 
Their priceless freight to the trait'rous tide, 
And dared, in their boasted strength, to glide 

Over the slumb'ring wave! 

Woe for the storm-rent sails. 
For the riven masts, and the parted ropes. 
And the human power that vainly copes 

With the strength of ocean gales ! 

O terrible unto me, 
In peaceful mask, or in warlike crest, 
With storm or zephyr to stir its breast, 

Is ever the watery sea. 

But sing for the wave of gold — 
For the shining billows that whisper low 
To the summer breezes, that come and go, 

Of their masfical wealth untold. 



The Golden Sea. 169 

Sweet store of the sunlit lea ! 
Ah, richest treasures of golden grain! 
Ah, priceless freight of the creaking wain, 

Of the land's proud argosy ! 

From heaven, that smiles above, 
From the golden touch of the royal sun 
The shining sea of the vale hath won 

The rarest gift of his love. 

For he came in regal pride 
To bathe in the dewy and verdant sea, 
And lo ! on the breast of the fragrant lea, 

A bright Pactolus-tide ! 

Gone w^as the emerald hue, 
But over the wind-swept meadows rolled 
The wondrous billows of shining gold, 

With diamond crests of dew. 

While ships to death go down. 
The golden waves of the plain are rife 
With glorious dower of wealth and life, 

Their glad explorer's crown. 

This is the priceless boon 
Of the golden sea, that the sickle cleaves — 
The billowy heaps of the banded sheaves, 

Upreared in the summer's noon. 

Then swell the harvest grlee ! 
Of gleaner's carol and reaper's strain 
Be this the ringing and glad refrain : 

'' All hail to the golden sea !" 



ROSSINI'S FUNERAL WREATH. 

[Suggested by an incident coniiected with the funeral obsequies of 
Rossini. Upon his coffin was placed a wreath, formed of two branches 
of laurel — one taken from the tomb of Virgil, the other from the grave 
of Tasso. These had been planted by Mery, in the garden of the 
composer, some years before.] 

Ay, weave for him a matchless crown, 

Bright daughter of the sun ! 
Meet tribute to the proud renown 

Thy gifted child hath won. 
Each charm amid thy bloom entwined 

His magic chords have caught — 
There is thy voice of music shrined. 

Thy loveliness en wrought. 
Well may he claim the minstrel's bays, 

Well may he bid thee bring 
The classic laurel of thy praise — 

Thy fairest offering. 
O worthy garland, proudly placed 

Upon the master's bier! 
A twofold crown hath interlaced 

Its shining leaflets here. 
Ay, from this fair Italian land 

Comes matchless meed of praise — 
The king of earth's poetic band 

Hath brought his classic bays. 



Rossini s Funeral Wreath. 171 

O favored minstrel ! thou hast gained 

Proud summit of renown, 
For Mantua's royal bard hath deigned 

To grace thy funeral crown. 
The sunny land of light and song 

Another treasure keeps : 
There, shrined amid her gifted throng, 

Her princely Tasso sleeps. 
Within the cloister's holy shade, 

'Mid wealth of balm and bloom, 
The reverent hand of fame hath made 

The poet's peaceful tomb. 
That tomb its priceless off' ring sends, 

And love the chaplet weaves ; 
Lo! Tasso's laurel brightly blends 

With Virgil's classic leaves ! 
A prouder Avreath than ever graced 

The mightiest victor's brow, 
Rossini ! on thy tomb hath traced 

Its twofold glory now. 
He of the '' verse men deemed divine" 

In Rome's imperial noon, 
And he who sung of "Salem's shrine," 

Have brought their blended boon. 
For Poesy his meed should give. 

To him her homage pay, 
Who bade her verse in music live, 

Who wedded lute and lay. 
Rest, master of the magic tone, 

Beneath thy wondrous crown ; 
Yet shrined not 'mid the pomp alone 

Of earth's too frail renown. 



172 Beside the Western Sea. 

The radiance of a purer light, 

A fadeless beam is shed. 
By potent prayer and holy rite, 

Above the Christian dead. 
Rest, while thy voice, undying, clear, 

A world with rapture fills ; 
Rest, while above thy sable bier 

Thy matchless Stabat thrills. 
Rest where the seraph-chorus swells, 

Whose echoes sweetly stole, 
And wrought their pure, celestial spells 

Within thy earth-bound soul. 
Rest in His blissful calm, who "gives 

To His beloved sleep," 
And where eternal glory lives, 

A fadeless chaplet keep. 



THE CONSECRATED MONTHS. 



THE CONSECRATED MONTHS. 



First Month, ) 
yanicary. > 

THE HOLY CHILDHOOD. 

O FAVORED cave of Bethlehem ! 

Within thy rock- built shrine 
Heaven hid its angel-guarded gem, 

Its light and life divine. 
O bleak, yet blessed, desert sands ! 

Rare beauty graced the wild, 
When, clasped in Mary's sinless hands, 

It saw the Holy Child. 

Land of the lotus-freighted Nile, 

Long held in demon thrall ! 
Love sent an Infant's magic smile. 

To bid thine idols fall. 
O rock-encircled Nazareth ! 

His presence made thee fair ; 
His seraph court, with incense-breath, 

Filled all thv favored air. 



176 Beside the Western Sea. 

O cottage walls, enriched with beam 

Of heaven's wondrous glow ! 
O new and lasting Eden-dream! 

O Paradise below ! 
The scions of a royal race 

Lived here, unknown, obscure — 
The *' just man, " rich in ev'ry grace, 

A toiler 'mid the poor. 

The lily-bloom of Israel, 

Blest Sharon's queenly flower, 
Fair Cades' palm, content to dwell 

Within her lowly bower. 
The Child that " grew in age and grace "- 

Their treasure — who is He? 
That Child, with sweet and smiling face, 

And brow of majesty, 

Is God ! at whose supreme command 

The radiant sunlight shone ; 
Whose glory bids the cherub-band 

Bow, veiled, before His throne. 
Messiah ! theme of psalmist's song, 

And hope of holy seer — 
The King of Judah, promised long, 

Earth's Saviour, hideth here. 

Through haughty-browed Jerusalem 
A " child of twelve years " trod — 

Emmanuel, with the diadem 
And sceptre of a God ! 



The Consecrated Months. ij'j 

O self-willed teachers of the law, 

That youthful sage ye heard ! 
O error-blinded ones, who saw. 

But would not own, " the Word " ! 

Child-Saviour! Thou from human eyes 

Hast rent the veil of pride : 
We own Thee, 'neath Thy human guise. 

Our model and our guide. 
Thy mystic childhood's graces fair 

Our heritage must be, 
That so our white-robed souls may share 

Thy crowning legacy. 

Obedience, bloom of heavenly soil, 

A spirit simple, pure, 
And patient diligence to toil. 

E'en nameless and obscure : 
And so each heart, by sin defiled, 

Freed thus from evil leaven. 
Becoming '' even as a child," 

Shall win its "mirrored heaven. 



I 78 Beside the Western Sea, 



Second Month, 
Febrtiary. 



THE PASSION. 



His hour is come. Love's mj^stic labor endeth, 

His wondrous life anears its cruel close, 
And on the willing Victim-Lamb descendeth 

A world's vast weight of woes. 
O lonely garden, strangest Eden-bower, 

Where the new, guiltless Adam waits His doom, 
And bears the torture of His trial-hour, 

Within thy midnight gloom ! 
Thy favored soil receives the priceless treasure, 

The boundless wealth of love's own crimson sea ; 
The anguish-tide that knew nor check nor measure 

Is thine, Gethsemane. 

Each sighing leaf that o'er thee sadly waveth, 

With that strange dew of agony is wet ; 
Redemption's first baptismal torrent laveth 

The brow of Olivet. 
When dawns at last the drear and dreadful morrow, 

Thy thronged and busy thoroughfares are dyed, 
O haughty city, theme of heaven's sorrow ! 

With love's resistless tide. 
Behold your King ! What treasures have ye given, 

Children of clay — what tributes rare and meet, 
To grace His triumph, while the hosts of heaven 

Bow, trembling, at His feet? 



The Consecrated Months. i 79 

Insult, and mockery, and mad derision, 

A ragged robe, a reed for kingly rod : 
These are your off' rings ; this, — O fearful vision ! — 

Your homage to a God. 
From glowing mines, or fair, sunlighted bowers, 

From shining caverns of thy southern sea. 
Dost bring, O earth, thy gifts of gems and flowers, 

His diadem to be? 
Alas! no jewelled chaplet's starry gleaming, 

No floral wreath. His royal brow adorns ; 
Gemmed with the blood-drops o'er His forehead 
streaming. 

Earth gives — a crown of thorns ! 

O'er His drear pathway bloom no fragrant roses, 

No regal damask decks His lofty throne ; 
On a rough cross the Sovereign reposes. 

Pain-tortured and alone. 
Save for His faithful few, and His dear Mother, 

In voiceless woe, beside His wounded feet: 
Thus the death torments of our God and Brother 

Redem.ption's boon complete. 
Thus is the ordeal of His passion ended, 

Thus love's strange history hath reached its close ; 
And earth was saved, when on His brow descended 

Her weary weight of woes. 

O ransomed ones, give homage, earnest, tender, 
To Him whose life redeemed your woful loss ! 

Fondly remove the thorny crown, and render. 
As tribute for the cross, 

A throne unshared, within each heart immortal, 
A fitting home, a '' swept and garnished shrine." 



i8o Beside the Western Sea. 

Sealed from the world be e'er the sacred portal 

That guardeth grace divine, 
That so, with heaven's royal wreaths entwining, 

In fadeless bloom, o'er brows of changeless calm, 
Ye may put on the '' garments washed" and shining 

With life-blood of the Lamb. 



Third Month, 
March. 



ST. JOSEPH. 



Earth's lot of lowliness was thine, 

Son of her proudest princely line ! 

As regal gems lie darkly hid 

The cavern's gloomy depths amid ; 

So, by patrician pride forgot, 

Concealed in labor's humble lot. 

The royal gifts that shone in thee 

Lay shrined in dark obscurity. 

The glory of thy kingly birth. 

Thy graces rare, thy matchless worth, 

Thy fair soul-jewel's wondrous glow, 

The worldly vision might not know — 

Its scornful glances could but see 

The artisan of low degree ; 

Yet heaven watched, with tend'rest smile, 

Thy hidden royalt}^ the while, 

And sent its white-winged angels down, 

To guard the glory of thy crown. 



The Consecrated Months, 18 1 

And well the seraph-courtiers knew 
Thy regal vesture's peerless hue ; 
In firmest clasp they saw thee bear 
Thy lily-sceptre pure and fair, 
And keep, unstained by earthly dust, 
The bright escutcheon of the just. 
'Twas meet that such transcendent grace 
Should seek thy soul's fair dwelling-place, 
And make thy heart its matchless shrine — 
For, ah, what privilege was thine, 
Fit guardian of the queenly flower 
That bloomed in Israel's favored bower ! 
Keeper of heaven's royal gem, 
The hidden boon of Bethlehem — 
Protector of thine Infant God, 
O'er desert paths thy footsteps trod. 
Obedient to the blest command 
That bade thee seek a kinder land, 
Where, safe from earthly harm, might be 
The mystic Babe of Galilee, 
Thy patient labor, fondly given. 
Sustained the Lord of earth and heaven, 
And all His holy childhood fair 
Received thy fond paternal care. 
Ay, heaven to thee its homage paid. 
The King of kings thy voice obeyed, 
Led by thy kind, protecting hand. 
Submissive to thy loved command. 
Close following where thv footsteps trod, 
Behold thy Saviour and thy God ! 
Sweet spouse ol Mary, Christ's dear guide, 
Bv liirht cclestinl L^orifietl — 



1 82 Beside the Western Sea. 

Ruler of saints, thy wondrous life 
With love's unmeasured wealth was rife ! 
Thy Jesus lent His presence blest, 
When sweetly dawned the day of rest ; 
The music of His tender voice 
Bade thy departing soul rejoice. 
Thou gav'st unto His hand again, 
Undimmed by shade of worldly stain, 
The gift He gave, thy soul's fair gem, 
To deck the Father's diadem. 
O blessed Joseph ! be our guide 
O'er weary wastes and deserts wide ; 
Give us thy kind paternal care, 
The treasure of thy potent prayer; 
Aid us to keep, through sin and strife. 
The lily of a blameless life. 
And when earth's day of pain shall close, 
And death's calm angel brings repose, 
With Jesus and with Mary, lend 
Sweet presence at life's welcome end ; 
Then from its broken casket bear 
The spirit-jewel, pure and fair, 
To gleam where shining seraphs bow 
Before th' Eternal's kingly brow. 



ST. JOSEPH, PATRON OF THE UNIVER- 
SAL CHURCH. 

HxViL, patron of the Church of God, receive thy 
fitting trust ! 

O thou on love's evangel-page forever named '' the 
Just!" 

Well didst thou guard the Word made flesh, well 
didst thou watch beside 

The manger-crib, the shrine of straw, where love 
had deigned to hide ; 

And safely bloomed, in lowly home, beneath thy 
tender care. 

The rosebud of a royal root, and Israel's lily fair. 

These were thy treasures, favored one — this was the 
charge conferred 

On thee, O foster father blest! O guardian of the 
Word ! 

And now the mystic spouse of Christ thy pure pro- 
tection craves. 

While round her rock- built home of love the win- 
try tempest raves ; 

While searching for her Hidden Gem, the Herod 
minions flood 

Her desecrated Bethlehems with streams of martyr- 
blood. 

Accept the trust, and guard again the treasures of 
thy God, 

And safely guide the spouse of Christ, with lily- 
blooming rod ; 



184 Beside the Western Sea. 

Support her steps till, at her glance, Egyptian idols 

fall, 
And bid her blossoms safely shine by Nazareth's 

cottage wall. 
Direct the wondrous work of love, O builder wise 

and strong ! 
Till, 'neath his finished temple fair, the gathered 

nations throng ; 
iVnd to his eucharistic shrine the star-led monarchs 

bring 
The penance-myrrh, the golden vow, the prayerful 

offerinpf. 
Then shall the grand prophetic dream in fair fulfil- 
ment shine. 
And mighty on the earth shall be Jehovah's name 

divine ; 
For Joseph, patron of the Church, accepts his fitting 

trust — 
Rest, faithful hearts, your gems are safe, protected 

by *' the Just." 
Safe is the shepherd, high-enthroned on truth's 

Eternal Rock, 
And safe, in Joseph's potent care, the universal 

flock; 
Safe are the sacramental founts that soothe the 

noontide wrath. 
Safe holy shrine and sacred rite, that deck the 

desert path ; 
And through the weary waste, behold ! the lily- 
blooming rod 
Of Joseph leads the pilgrim-band, as once it led 

their God. 



ITE AD JOSEPH. 

" Go to Joseph ! Lo, he keepeth 
All the treasures of the king! 

Unto him your homage render, 
And your supplications bring. 

" I have made him lord of Egypt, 
Placed my ring upon his hand. 

Bade him keep the robe of purple, 
And the sceptre of command." 

Thus the proud Egyptian monarch 
To his thronging people said, 

When, to share his mighty kingdom, 
Forth the captive youth he led. 

And unto that Hebrew stranger, 
From his lowly prison freed. 

Came the suppliant throng, unceasing, 
In the time of direst need. 

When the golden grain was withered 
On the parched and arid plain. 

And the harvest treasures filled not 
Gleaners' arms and creaking wain ; 

When the fearful famine hovered 
Darkly o'er the desert land. 

Then the royal stores were opened 
By the Hebrew's tender hand. 



1 86 Beside the Western Sea. 

'' Go to Joseph ! " Blessed summons ! 

Well that eager throng obeyed — 
Egypt's sons, and Syrian strangers, 

Sharing all the willing aid. 

" Go to Joseph !" Blessed summons ! 

Lo, 'tis uttered once again ! 
'Tis the universal Monarch 

Speaks it to His subject-train. 

Go to Joseph, tender guardian 
Of the world's anointed King; 
- Bearer of the lily sceptre, 
Wearer of the signet-ring. 

Go to Joseph ! for he keepeth 
Richer treasures, fairer store, 

Than the saintly Hebrew guarded 
In that mighty land of 3'ore. 

Israel's \\\y bloomed securely 
Where he kept his vigil blest, 

And a God in safety slumbered 
On that pure and faithful breast> 

When the golden store of graces 
Withers in the desert soul. 

And a dread and dreary famine 
Holdeth there its dark control, 

Go to Joseph ! Richest harvests, 
Ripened on the fadeless land. 

In an infinite abundance 
Guarded are by Joseph's hand. ■ 



The Consecrated Months. 187 

Go to Joseph ! Never, never 

Can that tender hand refuse 
Whosesoe'er the glance uplifted, 

Whosesoe'er the voice that sues. 

Go to Joseph ! When life's pathway 
Stretcheth through the desert land, 

Think that once unto his guidance 
Jesus gave His infant hand. 

He will save from tyrant Herods, 
Who thy priceless soul would seek ; 

He will guard from ev'ry peril, 
In thy journey long and bleak. 

He will lead through dread Saharas, 
Guide thee o'er the crimson sea, 

Till, beneath the peaceful palm trees, 
Evermore thy rest shall be. 



LILIES OF SAINT JOSEPH. 

O, OF all the lovely flowers 
That bedeck the garden bowers, 
Or illume, with rainbow light, the woodland and 
the lea, 
One is fair, amid the fairest. 
Richer, rarer, than the rarest — 
A}^ the sweet and stainless lily is the queen ol 
bloom for me ! 

When I see its snowy chalice, 
Like a white and shining palace. 
From its stalk uprising grandly, I bethink me of the 
rod, 
With its mystic lilies laden. 
That to Israel's royal maiden 
Showed the fitting spouse, selected by the miracle 
of God. 

Other blooms of earthly bowers 
Sisters are to starry flowers. 
That within the " fields above us" have their bright 
celestial birth ; 
But thy sheen, O royal Hly ! 
Is the moonlight, calm and stilly, 
Shedding streams of silv'ry splendor o'er the 
''firmament of earth." 



The Consecrated Months. 189 

Lily leaves of balm and brightness ! 
Ye have shrined the fragrant whiteness 
From the angel wings, reflected downward through 
the desert gloom ; 
And ye blossom sweetly, solely, 
For the lisrhted altars holv — 
Emblems of the blessed Joseph, types of Mary's 
virgin bloom ! 



Fourth Month, 
April. 



THE RESURRECTION. 



All hail to the glory and gladness of day, 

Transfiguring earth in its magical ray ! 

Exult, O ye nations ! the shadow hath fled, 

And life waxeth fair in the realms of the dead. 

The sunlight dispels, with its roseate glow, 

The phantoms that filled the long night-time with 

woe ; 
And the tempest that blighted a world in its wrath, 
The anguish that wailed o'er its conquering path, — 
Their discord is hushed, for a radiant form 
Flung the bright bow of peace o'er the way of the 

storm ; 
And the spell of its brightness hath silenced the 

might 
Of the demons that rode on the blasts of the night. 



190 Beside the Western Sea. 

O fair dawn of Easter ! O beauty benign, 

Whose glory celestial for ever shall shine ! 

Thy life-spring hath gushed from the gloom of the 

grave — 
From the tomb of the Victor who suffered to save. 
Love kindled thv splendor, and gilded thy gleam. 
Fulfilling the promise that brightened earth's dream ; 
The long-brooding darkness for ever is past, 
The light, long awaited, for ever shall last. 
O'er the realms of a world, lo ! its magic is shed. 
Bringing strength to the stricken, and life to the 

dead. 
O'er the hamlet's low roofs and the city's proud 

walls. 
O'er Scythian tents and Athenian halls ; 
O'er desolate deserts, o'er valleys that smile. 
Where the lotus flings beauty and bloom o'er the 

Nile ; 
Where the '' white cliffs " of Britain rise, girded with 

foam. 
Where, throned by her Tiber, sits glorious Rome ; 
Where the far Southern Sea slumbers, shining and 

calm. 
Enchained by the spell of its islands of balm ; 
Where, safe in his Alp home, the vulture looks forth, 
Where the ice-seal is laid on the lids of the North ; 
Where silence hath built,'mid the cedars, her nest, 
And majesty reigns in the forest- walled West, — 
O'er all the vast home of the children of clay 
Redemption hath lavished the wealth of its ray. 
Exult then, O nations ! sweet Easter-bells, ring, 
Let gladness her anthems triumphantly sing; 



The Consecrated Months. 191 

Let the altar be decked for the jubilant rite, 
Let the tapers shed o'er it their halo of light; 
Let the odor of incense, the bright blossom's breath, 
Waft praise to the Risen, the Conqu'ror of death — 
To Him who hath loosened the bonds of the slave. 
Illumed the dark valley, and gladdened the grave : 
For no terrors can lurk in the pathway once trod 
Bv the Master of heaven, earth's Saviour and God ! 



Fifth Month, May: 
The Mother of God. 



THE MONTH OF MARY. 

Fair queen of months, bright moon of flowers, 

O rainbow-vestured May ! 
When earth, through all thy smiling hours, 

Keeps ceaseless gala-day. 

The morning air is sweetly stirred 

By hum of golden bees. 
And joyous trills of woodland bird 

Float on the fragrant breeze. 

Pure incense riseth gently up 

From nature's floral shrine : 
From rose's heart, and lily's cup, 

And jasmine's clinging vine ; 



192 Beside the Western Sea. 

While sunlight crowns the purple hills, 

And dances o'er the lea, 
While light, with joy and music, fills 

All earth, and sky, and sea. 

Thus gentle May her bounty brings 

To nature's banquet-hall, 
And peace doth sit with folded wings, 

Serenely ruling all. 

Sweet month, thou hast a blessed name: 

Thy light and bloom are given 
To her who well the boon may claim, 

The gentle Queen of heaven ! 

Mary, each floral gift we bring 

That decks the dewy sward ; 
And bid each voice thy praises sing, 

Dear Mother of our Lord. 

The triumph thou didst prophesy 

Is thine : all time shall bless 
Th}^ matchless truth and purity, 

Thy spirit's loveliness. 

" Hail to thee, Mary ! full of grace ! " 

Thus fondly we repeat, 
While gazing on thy pictured face — 

The angel's homage meet. 

O Sharon's Rose ! shall we refuse 

To bow before thy shrine, 
When He who readeth hearts would choose 

No mother-love but thine ? 



TJie Consec7'aied Months. 193 

" Behold thy mother ! " Thus He gave 

Thy love our hope to be : 
Can we, then, scorn that love to crave, 

Our Saviour's legacy ? 

Grace, then, our feast! Alas! ''no wine," 

No wealth, no worth, have we — 
O Mother, beg thy Son divine 

To aid our poverty ! 

In vessels frail, a draught defiled 

Before Him now we place — 
O bid Him change it, Mother mild, 

To His pure wine of grace ! 

And while the sweet May blossoms shine. 

And light gilds earth and sea, 
These floral gems we fondl}^ twine, 

A coronet for thee. 

And so a worthier banquet shall 

Enrich our gala-day, 
And thou wilt rule our festival, 

And reign our Queen of May. 



A FAREWELL RHYME TO MAY. 

Too swiftly fades the " moon of flowers/* 
Too swiftly fly its smiling hours, 
Till but the last sweet days remain 
Of May's benign and blooming reign. 
'Tis not alone thy wealth of bloom, 
Thy golden rays and rich perfume, 
That makes thy ev'ry moment dear, 
Thou sweetest month of all the year. 
It is because each charm of thine 
Is offered at our Lady's shrine ; 
Because the Maiden-Mother stands, 
At thy fair dawn, with open hands : 
Rich gifts she bringeth for the day, 
Rich gifts she claims, O happy May ! 

It is because thy dewy eves, 

That crown with gems the golden leaves. 

Are freighted, too, with manna-balm. 

To shed o'er hearts a holy calm — 

Are bright with beams of starry grace, 

Reflected from her shining face. 

Sweet gifts she brings for night and day. 

Sweet gifts she claims, O favored May ! 

The holy rite, the matin prayer, 

To rise upon thy morning air ; 



The Consecrated Months. 195 

The tender strain of vesper hymn, 
Clear ringing through thy twilight dim ; 
The wreath of balm and bloom to twine, 
In garlands, round her gleaming shrine, — 
This tender tribute must thou pay, 
Thou dear and daint3^-footed May ! 
And these the charms that make thee dear, 
O queenly month of all the year ! 

This prompts the sad, regretful sigh : 
" Too swift the sacred moments fly ! " 
But she who reigns, beloved Queen, 
O'er thy sweet days and nights serene, 
Still at thy closing portal stands. 
With tender smile and outstretched hands, 
And bids us hail, as priceless boon, 
The Sacred Heart's resplendent June., 
And on the fair and final day 
A blended tribute must thou pay. 
And by her last sweet *' Festa" show 
That, in His triumph and His woe. 
The sinless Mother bore her part — 
Dear '' Lady of the Sacred Heart ! " * 



• The 31st of May is the Feast of Our Lady of the Sacred Heart, 
and the Month of June is, as all know, specially consecrated to the 
Sacred Heart of Jesus. 



HOUSEHOLD SHRINES OF OUR LADY. 

In the sacred month of flowers, 
While o'er bright, enchanted bowers 
Dance the fairy-footed hours, 
Mary's handmaids, fond and tender, 
Haste, in household shrines, to render 
Tributes of the vernal splendor. 
Then the frescoed oratory. 
Garlanded with rainbow glory, 
Tells its glad and grateful story. 
In the stately mansion shining, 
Lo ! the radiant wreath entwining, 
Fair Madonnas sweetly shrining. 
Home of beauty ! tributes fairest, 
Gleaming gold, and gifts the rarest, 
Like the kings of old, thou bearest ; 
Yet no dearer is thy splendor 
To the Sovereign, sweet and tender. 
Than the simple gifts they render 
Who, in humblest scenes, have sought her, 
And, in pause of toil, have wrought her 
Simple boons, and fondly brought her 
Lowly blooms of waysides, knowing 
'No rich breath and gorgeous glowing, 
Only freshest charms bestowing. 
Moss-clad cot in verdant valley, 
Narrow room in crowded alley, 
Where love's poorest, dearest, rally ; 



The Co7isecrated Months, 197 

Altar rude, and lowly bower, 
Shrine whereon the single flower, 
Withering, lies, its only dower, — 
Thou art fair as is the fairest, 
Thou art rich as richest, rarest, 
For our Lady's love thou sharest. 
Household shrines, by love-beams lighted, 
Earthly Edens, e'er unblighted ; 
Bowers of peace, in wastes benighted ; 
Stately shrines, and altars lowly, 
Rich or rude, alike the holy ; 
Loved by her who looketh solely 
On the souls that in your shining 
Mirrored are, where graces, twining. 
Wreathe the hearts, her love enshrining. 



OUR QUEEN OF MAY. 

Right royal is our Queen of May, 
And regal in her rich array 

Of queenly grace ; 
Her vesture gleams with glory rare, 
For priceless gems for ever there 

Hold willing place. 

Not from the deep and gloomy mine. 
Nor from the hidden caves that shine 

Beneath the sea, 
Hath toiler's hand the jewels brought, 
That, in her robe's bright texture wrought, 

Glow fadelesslv. 



198 Beside the Western Sea. 

But where the wondrous glory falls 

From "gates of pearl " and ''jasper walls '* 

On streets of gold ; 
Where shines the mystic " glassy sea," 
Where bloometh life's unfading tree, 

Heaven's caskets hold 

Each jewel rare, each shining gem, 
That decks her royal diadem 

With living light; 
A hand divine hath wove their sheen 
In the fair mantle of our Queen, 

Our Lady bright. 

Would'st know how, in her kingdom rare, 
Are named the jewels glowing there, 

Her treasures meet? 
Humility, serenely set 
First in her radiant coronet, 

Sheds lustre sweet. 

And purity, with silver light, 
Illumines all her robe of white, 

Her starry crown ; 
And, throned her shining brow above, 
Her richest gem, celestial love. 

Casts ever down 

On earthly night its cheering ray, 
To light the drear and darksome way 

Of pilgrims faint — 
Of weary ones that feebly toil 
'Mid thorny paths, and wild turmoil, 

And venom-taint. 



T/ic Consecrated Months. 199 

The sinless Maid, the Lily-flower, 
That dwelt in Nazareth's lowly bower, 

And Bethlehem's cave ; 
That drooping-, wan, yet faithful, clung", 
Beside the cross, whereon He hung, 

Who died to save. 

His Mother, chosen ours to be — 
A dying Saviour's legacy 

To mortals given ; 
Sweet Sovereign of the shining band 
Of dwellers in the better land — 

The Queen of heaven. 

She is our Queen, our ruler fair. 
And wondrous is her glory rare, 

Her queenly state : 
To her, the star of earth and sea. 
This month of bloom and birdling-glee 

We consecrate. 

Time's favored daughter, fair and sweet, 
Bright moon of blossoms, tribute meet 

For heaven's flower ! 
Thine, Mary, be its song and bloom. 
Its tinted skies, its soft perfume. 

Its beauty's dower. 

We bow before thy pictured face; 
The angel-greeting, *' Full of grace, " 

We fondly breathe ; 
Round altars decked for holy rite. 
Thy fragrant types, the lilies white, 

Our love shall wreathe. 



200 Beside the Western Sea. 

And while from earnest hearts arise 
The tones of tender litanies, 

To hail thj name ; 
Thy mother-love, thy ceaseless care, 
The power of thy pleading prayer, 

Thy children claim. 

O be our hearts thy kingdom bright, 
Bedecked with lily-graces white, 

In pure array ; 
And so, within its fragrant shrine, 
Each heart shall keep its feast divine- 
Its endless May. 



Sixth Month, 
yiine. 



THE SACRED HEART. 



It throbbed with an infinite, yearning love, 
When shepherds on earth adored, 

And the wandering seraphim watched above, 
The manger that hid their Lord. 

Each pulse of His mystical childhood stirred 
With the strength of that love divine ; 

And a mother treasured each priceless word 
That welled from its sacred shrine. 

And O, when the labor of love began, 
And the tempests of wrath were stilled 

By the gentle voice of the God made man. 
By the magical tones that thrilled 



The Consecrated Mo7iths. 201 

The awe-struck throng of the busy street, 

The fisherman by the sea ; 
And the crowd that followed His tireless feet, 

By the margin of Galilee : 

In the lonely wild, and the noisy mart, 

Wherever His journey lay, 
How the mighty throbs of that longing heart 

Held ever their ceaseless sway ! 

In the woful watch of that dreary night, 
When He bowed as the storm-swept flower, 

And earth was dumb at the dismal sight 
Of her Maker's anguish-hour; 

How that heart with its whelming sorrow heaved, 

Till its shrine was wellnigh rent ; 
And the pale, yet willing, lips received 

The cup by the Father sent ! 

And it quivered and glowed with its matchless love 
When its life-blood drenched the sod ; 

And the trembling angels watched above 
The cross of their suflfrinof God. 



'& 



The Sacred Heart ! how it burneth yet, 
With the flame of its love divine. 

When the hidden gem of heaven is set 
In an humble and earthly shrine! 

Where the altar-lights unfading glow, 
And the altar flowers gleam, 

x\nd silent mortals are bending low, 
As rapt in a hoi}' dream ; 



202 Beside the Western Sea. 

Where the incense bears on its fragrant breath 

The priceless burden of prayer, 
And the '' tantum ergo" of star-eyed Faith 

Floats up through the charmed air; 

There the Sacred Heart of the man-God lives. 

There broodeth the silent Dove, 
And unto the lofty and lowly gives 

Rich store of its boundless love. 

Shall we, the children of worthless clay, 
Yet washed in that Heart's pure tide, — 

Shall we from its tenderness turn away 
In coldness, and doubt, and pride ? 

Ah no ! While the bowers of earth are thrilled 
With the wild bird's gleeful tune, 

And forest, and meadow, and vale, are filled 
With the wealth of glowing June, 

With praise and prayer the golden hours 

Of this bright month we twine: 
A chaplet of gratitude's fragrant flowers 

To place at Thy holy shrine. 

O make our spirits Thy worthy throne, 

And bid each heart-throb be 
An ever-clear echo of Thine own, 

In holiest harmony ; 

That so, in the bowers of bliss above, 

Our spirits may form a part, 
Entwined with the flow^ers of fadeless love, 

Of Thine own sweet Sacred Heart. 



The Consecrated Months. 203 



Seventh Month, 
July, 



THE PRECIOUS BLOOD. 

Stream of salvation , 

River of life, 
With strength and svv^eetness 

And benisons rife ! 
Ceaseless thy flowing, 

Since the dread hour 
When a lone garden 

Gathered thy dower. 
Laving the olive-roots, 

Moist'ning the sod, — 
This thy beginning. 

Ocean of God ! 
Through the proud city 

Onward thy flow. 
Treasured by angels, 

Trampled below. 
From the pierced forehead 

Streaming adown. 
Purpling His royal robe, 

Gemming His crown, 
Till the thorn-garland 

Radiant grew 
With th}' pure splendor, 

With thy rich hue. 



204 Beside the Westerri Sea. 

Wrung by the scourges, 

Drenching the clay 
Where the meek victim 

Trod His lone way ; 
Down the bleak mountain, 

World-wide thy course. 
Eager its torrents, 

Wondrous its force. 
Nail-shattered hands and feet, 

Spear-wounded side — 
These are thy fountains. 

Life-giving tide ! 
Earth, '' It is finished ! " 

Loosed is thy chain, 
Fled is the nightshade 

Of sin and of pain. 
Strong Rock of Ages, 

Scorning the sea! 
Lo, on thy firm breast 

Springs a blest tree ! 
Lost birdlings roaming 

Through the chill air, 
Rest in those branches 

Fadelessly fair. 
Rich is each bright bough 

With balm and with bloom, 
Scenting earth's desert, 

Lighting its gloom ; 
Lavish its treasure 

Of life-giving fruit, 
Boundless its shadow, 

Depthless its root. 



The Consecrated Months. 205 

Whence its bright beauty ? 

Whence its fair dower? 
How won it fragrance, 

Freshness, and power? 
At its foot flowing, 

Lo, the rich stream! 
Fountain of Calvary, 

Ceaseless thy gleam ! 
Fresh from His Sacred Heart, 

Fadeless and free. 
This thy pure life-spring, 

Wonderful tree ! 
Drink, weary pilgrims, 

Gratefully lave 
Sin-fevered foreheads 

In its bright wave. 
Sing with the angels : 

Hail, precious blood! 
Life-stream of heaven, 

World-saving flood ! 



HYMN TO THE PRECIOUS BLOOD. 

Riven hands, in love extended, 

Wounded feet, and sword-rent side ! 

Forth ye pour, in torrents blended, 
Mercy's bright, baptismal tide. 

Hail, sweet stream, for ever flowing ! 
Hail, O blest and boundless flood ! 

Fount with life eternal glowing, 
Love's own pure and precious blood ! 

In the olive garden, lonely, 

When He drained the cup of woe, 
Tender eyes of angels only 

Saw the saving life-blood flow. 
Softly sighed the branches o'er Him, 

Bending o'er that mystic flood, 
And the long grass bowed before Him, 

Purpled with His precious blood. 

Scornful eyes that knew not pity, 

Saw it, on the dreary morn, 
Flowing o'er the sinful city. 

Fiercely wrung by scourge and thorn. 
Marking all His pathway weary. 

Onward flowed the ceaseless flood ; 
Via Dolorosa dreary, 

Cleansing earth with precious blood ! 



The Consecrated Mo7ttIis. 207 

Downward, from the mystic mountain, 

Feet, and hands, and opened side 
Poured their bright, baptismal fountain, 

Poured their clear and cleansing tide. 
Crimsoned cross, so brightly glowing 

With that blest, redeeming flood, 
Still we hail, with hearts o'erflowing. 

Thy sweet stains of precious blood. 

Ransomed saints, in garments whitened 

By the life-blood of the Lamb ; 
Pilgrims, with )^our burdens lightened, 

Martyrs, crowned with purpled palm ! 
Let us join your songs of gladness, 

Let us hail redemption's flood ; 
Christians, cleansed from sin and sadness, 

Praise, O praise, the precious blood ! 



2o8 Beside the Western Sea. 



Eighth Mouthy 
August. 



THE IMMACULATE HEART OF MARY. 

Gone was the sinless Eden-time, 

Dark shadows dimmed its glow, 
And earth was foul with reeking crime, 

And wild with pain and woe. 
No sunbeam pierced the weary gloom 

With bright, celestial dart ; 
No virtue-blossom brought its bloom 

To man's polluted heart. 

Long ages fled, and lo ! a light 

Broke on the darkness drear ; 
A garden shone, unstained .with blight, 

To ansrels fair and dear. 
Bright virtue's chosen dwelling-place, 

Adorned with heav'nly art, 
A temple, rich in ev'ry grace, 

Rose in one sinless heart. 

Thy spirit shed that blessed ray, 

O V^irgin pure and bright ! 
Thy radiance brought the beams of day 

O'er earth's unholy night; 
The lily-garden's bloom divine. 

Where blemish had no part, 
The temple fair, the gleaming shrine, 

Was thy unsullied heart. 



The Consecrated Months, 209 

Thy truth, a rare and radiant gem, 

Thy love, with incense-breath, 
Illumined lonely Bethlehem, 

And perfumed Nazareth. 
And thou did'st break the spell of wrong. 

And calm the storm of hate, 
With magic of thy seraph song, 

O Heart Immaculate ! 

Clear mirror of the Heart divine. 

Its image pure and fair ! 
Its matchless loveliness was thine, 

Its glory thou didst share. 
Thine, too, was ev'ry thrill of pain, 

Thine every anguish-dart: 
Its sorrow flung a mystic chain 

Around thee, sinless heart. 

Its agony was all thy own — 

Its griefs renewed in thee 
The sufT rings of the garden lone, 

The pangs of Calvary : 
In all that history of woe 

Thy love hath borne its part; 
Its keenest tortures thou did'st know, 

O faithful, sinless heart ! 

And in thy realm of fadeless bliss, 

In joy's own world above, 
Thou keep'st the charge He gave in this: 

The legacy of love. 



2IO Beside the Western Sea. 

Thy children know thy constant care, 

They feel the holy art 
That leads them to His kingdom fair, 

And to His Sacred Heart. 

O mother-heart ! deign thou to bless 

My journey through the wild, 
And in thy shelt'ring tenderness 

Still keep thy wayward child. 
Until, within its sunset glow, 

Life's shades are rent apart, 
And heaven's own brightness I shall know, 

With thee, unsullied heart ! 



Ninth Month, September: 
The Cross and the Eeligious Orders. 



CLING TO THE CROSS. 

Cling to the cross, for the wild tempest rages. 
Fasten thy hold on the firm Rock of Ages ; 
Vain, then, the wrath of the wreck-freighted ocean- 
Safe shalt thou rest from its angry commotion : 
Chng to the cross ! 

Cling to the cross, for the darkness increases. 
Gaze on the star-beam that fades not, nor ceases ; 
Pillar of light o'er the Red Sea of danger. 
Beacon of hope to the wave-beaten ranger: 
Cling to the cross ! 



The Consecrated Mo7iths. 2 1 1 

Cling to the cross, for the syren is singing-, 
Heed not the strain o'er the wild waters ringing; 
Lend not thine ear to the echoes that haunt thee. 
Ruin lies hid in the tones that enchant thee : 
Cling to the cross ! 

Cling ! 'tis thy shield from the snares that would 

hold thee, 
Let its strong arms in their shelter enfold thee ; 
Safe shalt thou be from the storm-clouds that lower, 
Safe, ever safe, from the tempest's wild power : 
Cling to the cross \ 

Shun thou the perils thy beacon shall show thee — 
See the rich argosies ruined below thee ; 
Tremble and turn from the treacherous ocean, 
From its dread calm and its angry commotion : 
Cling to the cross ! 

Cling with a strength that no art shall dissever, 
Till the wild waves shall be silenced for ever ; 
Till o'er the Red Sea of ruin and danger, 
Path shall be made for the storm-beaten ranger: 
Cling to the cross ! 



THE RELIGIOUS ORDERS. 

Hail to the warriors, leal and strong ! 

Hail to the dauntless band ! 
For a goodly sight is that noble throng, 

A goodly sight and grand. 
From forest glen and from mountain side, 

From the desert's trackless waste, 
From the narrow lane and the prairie wide. 

The gathering legions haste. 
And on with silent and ceaseless tread, 

On in their joyous way, 
While the years decayed, and the ages fled, 

They have known nor check nor stay ; 
For they are strong with immortal life, 

And glad with a mystic wine ; 
And each hath brought to the field of strife 

A lance and a shield divine. 
Yet not in trappings of pride bedight, 

Not in its glittering dross, 
Come the stalwart chiefs of a noble fight — 

The warriors of the cross. 
The humble monk, in his robe of gray. 

The nun in her sable dress, 
From shrines by the busy and broad highway, 

And the lonely wilderness : 



The Consecrated Mo7iths. 213 

These are the conquerors in the fight, 

This is the peerless throng, 
With the swords of truth, and shields of light, 

And hearts sincere and strong. 
Boldly they battle, from age to age, 

With the hydra-hosts of sin ; 
Oh, a fierce and lengthened war they wage, 

And a glorious prize they win ! 
Ye who have passed in the cloister's shade 

Sweet childhood's hours of joy, 
Have felt its pleasures that cannot fade, 

Its bliss without alloy ; 
Have drunk from its fountain of crystal truth, 

Have tasted its feast of love. 
And won the spirit's immortal youth, 

And shared in the joys above, — 
Ye know how the daughter of virtue strives 

To conquer the fresh young soul ; 
Ye know how the glory of noble lives 

Is traced to her blest control. 
In the alley foul, and the noisome lane, 

'Tis a glorious sight to see 
The angel-work at the couch of pain, 

The conquest of charity. 
A simple nun is the victor now. 

But the grateful orphan's pra3^er 
And the penitent's tears are worth, I trow, , 

An army's trumpet-blare. 
In the dreary depths of the pathless wild. 

Where the mournful breezes moan. 
And the stealthy step of the forest child 

Scarce wakes an echo-tone ; 



214 Beside the Wester?i Sea, 

There the "■ black-robe chief" hath boldly borne 

Redemption's blessed sign, 
And the savage weeps o'er the crown of thorn, 

And the cross of love divine. 
I Then hail to the warriors, leal and true! 
! Hail to the foes of sin ! 

For a grand and glorious work they do, 

And a worthy strife they win. 
The sacred Orders that ceaseless guard 

The rock-built home of faith, — 
With her tireless sentinels' watch and ward, 

Can she yield to the hosts of death ? 
Hail to the founders, the leaders brave ! 

Honor to each bright name ! 
While the shining standard of truth shall wave, 

Theirs be a deathless fame. 
On, on, glad host ! to the raging fight, 

Each with his gleaming sword, 
And his glowing breastplate stamped in light 

With '' Holiness to the Lord !" 
" By this sign, win I " see, traced on high ! 

Oh, the fiend shall wail his loss. 
While Faith reveals to her warrior's eye 

Her motto, beneath the cross ! 



The Consecrated Months. 21 



Te7tth Month, 
October. 



THE HOLY ANGELS. 

From out the sheen of star-lit skies, 
From out the morning's glow, 

The tender smile of angel-eyes 
Illumes the world below. 

How shone that smile o'er Eden's vale, 
Ere guilt had brought the gloom, 

And evil left the serpent-trail, 
Upon its hght and bloom ! 

Yet when its blighted human flowers, 

Cast forth by sword of flame, 
Turned from their lost and ruined bowers 

In agony and shame ; 

Then from their fadeless homes of light 
The white-winged angels sped, 

And o'er the way of woe and night 
Their tender love-light shed ; 

And Israel, rapt in holy dream. 

Beheld its brightness fair, 
And saw their starry pinions gleam 

Adown the shining stair. 



2 1 6 Beside the Wester^i Sea, 

As o'er that golden path they bring 
Earth's weary prayers and sighs, 

And waft, in ceaseless journeying, 
The boons of paradise. 

I Beneath the lattice-shading vine 
Kneels childhood pure and fair, 
And messengers of love divine 
Receive the priceless prayer. 

And o'er its soft and tranquil sleep, 

Illumed with holy dream, 
Sweet angel-eyes their vigils keep, 

And snowy pinions gleam. 

And when the sinner, worn with woe, 
Bends low the humble knee, 

And tears of sorrow softly flow, 
In mystic brillianc}^ ; 

His angel bears the peerless gem, 

As tribute pure and bright, 
A pearl to deck love's diadem 

With hues of holy light. 

O shining band ! O seraph throng^ 
Through heaven's eternal calm 

For ever rings your triumph-song 
Of '' Glory to the Lamb." 

Your legions stand as erst they stood, 

Ere bright creation shone. 
Where fadeless light's transcendent flood 

Gleams from the *' great white thione." 



The Consecrated Mouths. 217 

And joyous carols once ye sang 

To hail a Saviour's birth : 
'■'■ Glory to God ! " the echoes rang, 

"And peace to men on earth." 

O bright-winged messengers of grace, 
Through whose pure hands are given 

The boons that cheer the human race 
With benisons of heaven ! 

Earth brings the meed of grateful love, 

And solaced hearts shall bless 
Those angel-eyes, that gleam above 

With tender watchfulness. 

O pure attendant, guardian bright, 

Beneath whose shelt'ring wings, 
From tempest blasts and snares of night. 

My shrinking spirit clings ! 

Still guide my weak and wayward feet 

O'er life's uncertain way. 
Where dangers lurk, and wiles entreat, 

O shed thy heavenly ray. 

Till, on my freed, enraptured ear. 

To earthlv tumult dim, 
Shall fall, in cadence soft and clear, 

The song of seraphim ! 



2 1 8 Beside the Westemi Sea, 



Eleventh Month, November : 
The Holy Souls. 



COMMEMORATION OF ALL-SOULS. 

O FAITHFUL Church ! O tender mother-heart, 

That, 'neath the shelter of thy deathless love, 

Shieldest the blood-bought charge thy Master gave ;• 

Laving the calm, unfurrowed infant brow 

With the pure wealth of heaven's cleansing stream ; 

Breathing- above the sinner's s^rief-bowed head 

The mystic words that loose the demon-spell, 

And bid the leprous soul be clean again ; 

Decking the ''upper chamber"' of the heart 

For the blest banquet of the Lord of love ; 

Binding upon the youthful warrior's breast 

The buckler bright, the sacred shield of strength, 

The fair, celestial gifts of Pentecost, 

Borne on the pinions of the holy Dove ! 

And when, at last, life's sunset hour is near. 

And the worn pilgrim-feet stand trembling on 

The shadowy borders of the death-dark vale, 

At thy command the priestly hand bestows 

The potent unction in the savmg Name, 

And gives unto the parched and pallid lip 

The blest Viaticum, the Bread of Life, 

As staff and stay for that drear pilgrimage ! 

Thy prayers ascend, with magic incense-breath. 

From the lone couch, where, fainting b)' the way, 

The frail companion of the deathless soul 

Parteth in pain from its immortal guest. 



The Consecrated Mo7iths. 2 1 9 

And when, at last, the golden chain is loosed, 

And through the shadows of that mystic vale 

The ransomed captive floateth swiftly forth, 

In solemn tones thy De Profundis rings 

O'er all the realms of vast eternity ; 

Thy tender litanies call gently down 

The angel-guides, the white-robed band of saints, ^' 

To lead the wand'rer to the "great white throne," 

To plead, with heaven's own pitying tenderness. 

For life and mercy at the judgment-seat. 

The account is given, the saving sentence breathed, 

Yet He who said that naught by sin defiled 

Can take at once its blessed place amid 

The spotless legion of His shining saints, 

Will find, upon the white baptismal robe. 

Full many a blemish : stains too lightly held. 

Half-cleansed by an imperfect sorrow's flood. 

" The Christian shall be saved, yet as by fire :" 

So, to the pain-fraught, purifying flame 

The robe is given, till every blighting spot 

Hath faded from its primal purity ; 

Still, faithful Church, thy blest communion binds 

Each suffering child unto thy mother-heart. 

Full well thou know'st the wond'rous power of 

prayer — 
That 'tis a holy and a wholesome thought 
To plead for those who in the drear abode 
Of penance linger, that '' they ma}^ be loosed 
From all their sins;" that on each spotless brow 
Love's shining hand may place the starry crown. 
And so the holy sacrifice ascends, 
A sweet oblation for that wailing band. 
Thy regal form in mourning hues is draped, 



2 20 Beside the Western Sea. 

Th)^ pleading Miserere ceaseth not 

Till, at its blest entreat}^ Love descends, 

As erst from His rent tomb to Limbo's realm. 

And leads again the freed, exultant throng, 

Within the gleaming gates of gold and pearl 

To bask in fadeless splendor, where the flow 

Of the '' still waters " by the " pastures green " 

Faints not, nor slackens, through the endless years 

O Christians, brethren by that holy tie 

That links the living with the ransomed dead ! 

Children of one fond mother are ye all. 

White-robed in heaven, militant on earth, 

And sufferers 'mid the purifying flame. 

O ye who tread the highway of our world. 

Join now your voices with that mother's sigh ! 

And while the mournful Autumn wind laments. 

And sad November's ceaseless tear-drops fall 

Upon " the silent city's" marble roofs. 

O'er lonely graves, amid the pathless wild. 

Or where the wayworn pilgrim sunk to rest 

In some lone cavern of the crested sea, — 

List to the pleading wail that e'er ascends 

From the dark land of sufferins^ and woe : 

" Our footsteps trod your fair, sun-lighted paths, 

Our voices mingled in your joyous songs, 

Our tears w^ere blended in one common grief; 

Perchance our erring hearts' excess of love 

For ye, the worshipped idols of our lives. 

Hath been the blemish on our bridal robes. 

Plead for us, then, and let your potent prayer 

Unlock the golden gates, that we who beat 

Our eager wings against these prison bars. 

May wing our flight to endless hberty." 



REQUIESCANT IN PACE. 

O Father, give them rest — 
Th}^ faithful ones, whose day of toil is o'er, 
Whose weary feet shall wander nevermore 

O'er earth's unquiet breast ! 

The battle-strife was long ; 
Yet, girt with grace, and guided by Thy light, 
They faltered not till triumph closed the fight, 

Till pealed the victor's song. 

Though drear the desert path, 
With cruel thorns and flinty fragments strewn, 
Where fiercely swept, amid the glare of noon. 

The plague-wind's blighting wrath. 

Still onward pressed their feet ; 
For patience soothed with sweet, celestial balm, 
And, from the rocks, hope called her founts to calm 

The simoom's venom-heat. 

Their march hath reached its close. 
Its toils are o'er, its Red Sea safely passed ; 
And pilgrim-feet have cast aside at last 

Earth's sandal shoon of woes. 

Thou blissful promised land ! 
One rapturous glimpse of matchless glory caught, 
One priceless vision, with thy beauty fraught. 

Hath blessed that way-worn band. 



2 22 Beside the Western Sea. 

And to th}^ smiling- shore 
Their ceaseless messengers of longing went, 
And blooms of bliss and fruitage of content, 
Returning, gladly bore. 

Yet sadly still they wait ; 
For, past idolatries to gods of clay. 
And past rebellions 'gainst the Master's sway, 

Have barred the golden gate. 

The magic voice of prayer, 
The saving rite, the sacrifice of love, 
The human tear, the sigh of saints above, 

Blent in one oft'ring fair, — 

These, these alone, can win 
The boon they crave : glad entrance into rest, 
The fadeless crown, the garment of the blest, 

Washed pure from stain of sin. 

Hear, then, our eager cry. 
O God of merc}^ ! bid their anguish cease ; 
To prisoned souls, ah ! bring the glad release, 

And hush the mourner's sigh. 

Mother of pitying love ! 
On sorrow's flood thy tender glances bend, 
And o'er its dark and dreadful torrent send 

The olive-bearing dove. 

Thy potent prayer shall be 
An arch of peace, a radiant promise-bow. 
To span the gulf, and shed its cheering glow 

O'er the dread penance-sea. 



The Consecrated Months. 223 

And on its pathway blest 
The ransomed throng, in garments washed and 

white, 
May safely pass to love's fair realm of light, 

To heaven's perfect rest. 



THE DE PROFUNDIS BELL.^ 

The day was dead ; from purple summits faded 

Its last resplendent ray, 
And softly slept the wearied earth, o'ershaded 

By twilight's dreamy gray. 
Then flowed deep sound-waves o'er the silence holy 

Of nature's calm repose, 
As from its lofty dome, outpealing slowly 

Through the still gloaming, rose 
The deep and dirge-like swell 
Of De Profundis bell. 

* Among the many beautiful and pious customs of Catholic countries, 
none appeals with more tender earnestness to the pitying heart than 
that of the De Proftindis bell. While the shades of night are gathering 
over the earth, a solemn, dirge like tolling resounds from the lofty 
church towers. Instantly every knee is bent, and countless voices, in 
city and hamlet, from castle and cottage, repeat, with heartfelt earnest- 
ness, the beautiful psalm, "Z>^ Profundis,^'' or, "Out of the depths," etc., 
for the souls of the faithful departed. Thus is illustrated, in a most 
touching manner, the blessed doctrine of the Communion of Saints. 
Thus does the Church Militant clasp, each day anew, the holy tie which 
binds her to the suffering Church of Purgation. 

The compassionate heart of the Christian is stirred to its inmost 
depths by the plaintive call of that warning bell ; and as, in the holy 
hush of nightfall, he obeys its tender appeal, how fully does he realize 
that "it IS a holy and wlioleiiome thought to oray for tlie dead." 



2 24 Beside the Western Sea. 

To heedful hearts each solemn cadence falling 

Through twilight's misty veil, 
An echo seemed of spirit-voices calling 

With sad, beseeching wail ; 
And thus outspake the mournful intonation : 

" Plead for us, brethren, plead ! 
From the drear depths of woe and desolation 

Our cry of bitter need 

Floats upward in the swell 
Of De Profundis bell." 

Then bowed each knee, that plaintive summons 
heeding. 
And rose the blended sigh, 
As incense-breath of fond, united pleading 

E'en to the throne on high : 
*' Hear, Lord, the cry of fervent supplication 

Earth's children lift to Thee ; 
And from the depths of long and dread purgation 
Thy faithful captives free, 

Ere dies on earth the swell 
Of De Profundis bell. 

'' If, in Thy sight, scarce e'en the perfect whiteness 

Of seraph-robe is pure. 
Shall mortals brave Thine eye's eternal brightness? 

Shall man its search endure? 
Ah ! trusting hope may meet the dazzling splendor 

Of those celestial rays, 
For with Thee, Lord, is pardon sweet and tender. 

When contrite sorrow prays. 



The Consecrated Alonths. 225 

Ay, Thou wilt lead, from desert waste of sadness, 

Thine Israel's chosen band ; 
And Miriam's song of pure, triumphant gladness 
Shall, in Thy promised land, 

Succeed the dirge-like swell 
OfDe Profundis bell." 



Twelfth Month, December: 
The Immaculate Conception- 



MATER IMMACULATA. 

O WONDROUS vision of the winter night ! 

() picture fair, impressed on sable cloud, 

YeL flooding all that sad, perspective shade 

With the soft splendor of a summer's dawn, 

The glad reflection of thy matchless glow : 

' A woman, crowned with twelve unfading stars! " 

The crescent-moon, a subject at her feet ; 

A countless throng of cherub faces twined 

In dazzling wreaths around that royal form ; 

And crouching, crushed beneath her potent tread, 

The serpent-fiend, whose '' trail is over all " 

The bloom of earth, save one unblighted flower. 

Lo, this the fair apocalyptic dream ! 

The brightest revelation erst vouchsafed 

To the pure eyes of loved evangelist. 

Hail, radiant vision! hail, thou peerless queen ! 



2 26 Beside tJie Western Sea. 

O lily sweet, whose petals hid no stain 

To mar their white and fragrant loveliness ! 

O royal rose, at whose earth-fostered feet 

No canker-worm in secret silence gnawed ! 

Pure fountain from thy life-spring ! Jewel fair, 

Unflecked, unmarred, by flaw of primal sin! 

Immaculate ! the bending seraphs sing ; 

Immaculate! lo, earth has caught the strain, 

And all a glad, sin-ransomed universe 

Rings with the echo of that blest refrain. 

And eager lips, through earth and heav'n, repeat 

*' All fair art thou, beloved one, all fair ! 

The spot original is not in thee." 



THE TREASURES OF DECEMBER. 

O FAVORED month of all the vear. 

What privilege is thine ! 
Upon thy clouds, reflected clear, 

What magic splendors shine ! 
Through all thy wintry atmosphere, 

What radiance divine ! 

The Christmas-light that dowers earth 

With heaven's richest rays; 
The dawn that filled the midnight dearth 

With flood of seraph-praise ; 
The beam that hails a Saviour's birth, — 

The wondrous day of days. 



The Co7zsecrated Months. 227 

And, blended with that blessed beam, 

Behold the brightness fair, 
The light of pure evangel-dream, 

That, on the wintry air, 
Pours from its starry halo-gleam 

Celestial glory rare. 

The peerless ray that shineth now 
Where white-robed legions wait, 

Where angel-subjects lowly bow. 
To own her royal state. 

Crown-jewel on that virgin brow, 
The gem immaculate. 

Lo ! these the treasures thou dost shrine 

Amid thy realm of snow, 
These are thy rays that far outshine 

The summer's golden glow ; 
That shed a radiance divine 

O'er wintry gloom below. 

And when the Christmas chimes shall ring 

Through blest December's air, 
And when the Christmas garlands fling 

Their festal brightness fair, 
Lo I 'mid the glory of the King, 

His Mother's jewel rare, 

Two matchless beams, till time is done, 

Shall chase the clouds of hate ; 
Two wondrous rays shall blend in one, 

That earth, with joy elate, 
Ma}^ hail the Mother and the Son, 

The gems immaculate. 



OUR PATRONESS. 

FOR THE FEAST OF THE IMMACULATE CONCEPTION. 

A PEERLESS privilege is thine, 

O favored Western land ! 
Unfading halos round thee shine 
Of matchless radiance benign, 

Celestial brightness bland. 

Ay, heaven hath sent its fairest dower, 
Its starlight cheers thy gloom ; 

Its royal rose, its lil}' flower, 

Sheds o'er thy lone, sin-blighted bower 
Transcendent balm and bloom. 

Our only boast and pearl of worth, 

Our one unsullied gem. 
Sole treasure of our stricken earth, 
One jewel meet, amid its dearth, 

For heaven's diadem ! 

The royal maiden, full of grace, 
In robes of dazzling white ; 
Fair daughter of our fallen race, 
The beauty of whose queenly face 
No blemish dared to blight, — 



The Cojisecratcd MoiUhs. 229 

She is the guardian of our land, 

Our starbeam, bright and blest ; 

Our patroness, whose bounty rare 

Sheds benisons and graces fair 
O'er all the favored West. 

Hail, holy morn ! with hearts elate 

We greet thee, day of joy ! 
And hail, enrobed in regal state, 
Heaven's Lily-Queen, immaculate, 

Our gem, without alloy. 

Lo ! framed in drear December skies, 

Apocalyptic dream ! 
While far the shadowy monster flies, 
We see the star-crowned figure rise, 

Enthroned on crescent beam. 

Sancta Regina I at thy feet, 

In homage fond we bow — 
Thy subjects pay thee tribute meet. 
And own the diadem complete 

That decks thy queenly brow. 

Immaculate ! O title fair ! 

Crown-jewel, all thine own ! 
Ah, well may earthly echoes ring 
The joy the seraph-courtiers sing 

Around thv dazzlinsf throne ! 



230 Beside the Western Sea. 

One gleam we crave, one beam benign, 

From thy imperial crown, 
One priceless ray of light divine. 
Upon our darkened souls to shine, 
When tempest-shadows frown. 

And though thy pure and perfect grace 

Can ne'er, alas ! be ours, 
One ray reflected from thy face 
Hath potent influence to chase 

The gloom that darkly lowers. 

And, mirrored in the sin- washed soul, 

The ''swept and garnished" shrine. 
Though clouds enwrap and thunders roll, 
That ray shall keep its bright control. 
Till dawns the day divine. 



CORNELIA'S JEWELS.* 

TllEY sat within a stately hall, 

A proud, patrician home, 
Those daughters of a lordly line, 

The race of regal Rome ; 
And on their robes of Tyrian dye, 

And m their shining hair, 
A flood of living glory streamed 

From jewels rich and rare ; 
And, clasped within each snowy hand. 

The costly casket shone, 
Where dazzling splendor sat enshrined 

Upon its golden throne : 
Gems from the far-off Indian mine, 

And crested Persian wave; 
The diamond from the foeman's crown. 

The pearl from ocean cave. 
Red burned the ruby's bleeding heart. 

The topaz glowed like flame, 
And from the smiling skies, I ween, 

The sapphire's azure came. 
The emerald's verdant lustre seemed 

From grassy meadows caught. 
And one might deem each flashing ray 
With dewy odor fraught. 

* Some ladies of ancient Rome were one day displaying their jewels 
and rare ornaments, when CorneHa, mother of the renowned Gracchi, 
being asked to add her gems to tlie ghttering store, led forwrd her 
young sons, saying, " Behold Cornelia's jewels I " 



232 Beside the Western Sea. 

And on the blended glories there, 

As bound by magic spell, 
The burning glare of envy dwelt, 

The glance of triumph fell. 
Uprose each fettered look at last, 

Uprose each haughty head, 
For, lo ! within that sculptured hall 

A new and stately tread : 
The presence of a queenly form, 

A calm, majestic face. 
With shining eyes and noble brow, 

And smile of winning grace. 
No gems that peerless stranger wore, 

No wealth of jewels shed 
Their rainbow light o'er arching neck, 

And proudly lifted head. 
x\ll unadorned her matron's robe, 

With woollen girdle bound ; 
Ungemmed the simple fillet-band. 

About her temples wound. 
Yet, 'mid that fair and high-born throng. 

She stood, a very queen, 
Unrivalled in her quiet grace, 

Her majesty of mien. 
Two children fair beside her stood. 

Of princely lineage high ; 
Bright flashed the future hero's look 

From dauntless brow and eye. 
The mistress of that palace proud 

Bent \o\N her lofty brow : 
'' Cornelia, hail ! our treasures wait 

Thv added tribute now." 



Cornelias y ewe Is. 233 

Her matchless sons the matron clasped : 

'' My only gems are these — 
My treasures, fairer than the wealth 

Of richest mines or seas. 
Nay, tell me not of priceless pearls 

In glittering diadems, 
Or robes resplendent with the sheen 

Of countless flashing gems. 
No casket's store can match my wealth, 

No diamonds can compare 

With blest Cornelia's boons divine, — 

A mother's jewels rare." 
* -K- -H- -;f -;f 'k y> ^ 

O thou who guard'st the glorious shrine 

That holds a ransomed soul, 
Who keep'st the young immortal mind 

Within thy fond control ! 
If the proud pagan mother deemed 

That gift of priceless worth — 
A prize, a treasure, far beyond 

The brightest gems of earth ; 
What, Christian mother, should'st thou place 

Above thy jewels fair ? 
What scene could bid thine eye relax 

Its sweet, maternal care ? 
Oh ! if, amid the mire of earth, 

Thou castest idly down 
The jewels formed to shed their rays 

Around a Saviour's crown, 
When He shall count His fadeless gems. 

What shall thy answer be, 
If thou hast lost the precious bo(:)ns 

He iia\e in charije to thee? 



THE SUMMER QUEEN. 

In summer time, sweet summer time, 
The young year's glad and golden prime, 
With rosy crown and robe of green, 
Lo, on the hills a fairy queen ! 
How beams her smile in sunset's gold ! 
How floats her song o'er vale and wold ! 
*' I give the bleak and barren plain 
Its precious store of golden grain ; 
With magic hand 1 sow the seed, 
And deck for man the grassy mead, 
And well I love, when earth is gay. 
The pleasant smell of new-mown hay. 
The ploughman whistles o'er the lea — 
His merry tunes are sweet to me; 
The reaper whets his gleaming scythe, 
His arm is strong, his step is blithe. 
And gayly go the laughing train 
Beside the laden harvest wain. 
In gleaner's dance and vintage song 
I meet the glad and grateful throng ; 
And leal and trusty are, I ween, 
These courtiers of the Summer Oueen ! 
The ripened apples softl}^ fall. 
The peach is blushing on the wall. 
Bright berries hide in leafy lane. 
The currant's heart is rich again, 



The Summer Queen, 235 

And south winds gather, as they rove, 
The odors of the orange grove. 
The lemon tells of nectar-draught. 
And ruddy cherries gayiy laughed, 
When, yester-even, wand'ring free, 
I plucked them from the bending tree. 
O rare and dainty is, I ween, 
The banquet of the Summer Queen! 
Fair flowers bloom o'er field and hill, 
A pearly crest bedecks the rill, 
The dewdrops glitter on the leaves, 
Rare gold illumes the banded sheaves, 
And sunlight crowns, with rosy glow. 
All heaven above and earth below. 
Ah, rich and i-adiant are, I ween. 
The jewels of the Summer Queen ! " 
And thus, with smile and ringing lay. 
The sovereign treads her sunny way ; 
Behind her dance the glowing hours. 
O'er velvet moss and damask flowers. 
They pass, they float in brightness on. 
Softly as glides the snowy swan, 
'Mid murmured song and starry gleam, 
Upon the lily-laden stream. 
Too soon the fairy pomp will fade 
From emerald vale and leafy glade. 
But earth shall hail again, I ween. 
The bright reign of the Summer Queen. 



\ HE WHO GIVETH TO THE POOR, 
LENDETH TO THE LORD." 

Ay, happy he whose Christ-like pity lends 

Unto God's poor — who makes their wants his 
own ! 

He hath the fairest gifts our Father sends, 

The brightest rays that sparkle from His throne ; 

He hath sweet knowledge of all blessed things, 

And walketh safely, clasped by angel wings. 

Ay, and his shining path is paved with prayer — 
A golden stairway to the home of love ; 

The balm of benisons doth freight the air. 
And ^seraph eyes smile softly from above ; 

And heaven's own music, grand, triumphant, 
clear. 

Falls ever on his rapt and favored ear. 

Each smile he bringeth to the tear-dimmed eye, 
Each joy he lendeth to the grief-worn breast, 
A star-beam is, set in a fadeless sky, 

A rare crown-jewel for his reign of rest : 
Bright are those beams upon the heavenward 

road. 
Countless those gems in love's fair realm be- 
stowed. 



Song of the Dawn. 237 

For " cup of water " gladly, kindly given 

To earth's poor pilgrims, parched with noontide 
heat, 

From golden chalice he shall drink, in heaven, 
A nectar-draught, rich, bounteous, complete ; 

x\nd e'en the " widow's mite " shall be restored, 

Exhaustless wealth, a vast, unmeasured hoard. 

Search not alone amid the worthless dust 
For gold that perisheth, for gifts that fade, 

But seek the wealth undimmed by earthly rust, 
And unto charity be tribute paid — 

A hundred-fold shalt thou receive again: 

Man lendeth not unto the Lord in vain. 



SONG OF THE DAWN. 

A WELCOME, glad mortals, a welcome for me, 
I have painted the cloud, I have gilded the sea; 
From his glorious dreams T have summoned the day: 
He Cometh in beauty — sad sister, away ! 
Away to thy caves, on the wings of the gale — 
I have broken thy spells, I have lifted the veil ! 
Hence, sable-robed queen ! Thou art conquered, 

O Night! 
t\nd thy shadows have fled at the coming of light. 
Lo ! the sheen of my armor, the gleam of my lance. 
The flash of my swiftness, the m^ight of mjy glance! 
One look o'er the landscape — lo ! darkness is gone, 
And earth rises fair in the s^lory of dawn. 



J 



8 Beside the Western Sea. 



Then give me glad welcome, O children of men ! 
As I glide o'er the meadow, and light the dark glen, 
While my banner of brightness is gajly unfurled, 
And my largesse of sunshine is shed o'er the 

world, 
How lavish its bounty ! it dowereth all, 
It gilds the rough hovel, it lights the gay hall ; 
It smiles on the blossoms, and hides 'mid the leaves, 
With the vine's fairy shadows rare tissues it weaves. 
On the mist-mantled mount, and the spray-crested 

stream, 
How the gold of the dawning doth sparkle and 

gleam ! 
Earth haileth my coming with shout and with song, 
With the carolling glee of her joy-laden throng ; 
From hill, vale, and wild wood float greetings to me, 
From gay, laughing childhood, from bird and from 

bee. 
'Mid music and gladness, I glide on my way, 
Yielding place to the king of the summer's rich ray ; 
In glory perfected light springs o'er the lawn, 
And the day-god hath followed his herald, the dawn. 



THE CHURCH TRIUMPHANT. 

WRITTEN FOR THE FEAST OF ALL SAINTS. 

Hail, princes, enthroned in the court of the Lamb! 
Hail, conquerors, crowned with the blood-tinted 

palm ! 
White army of martyrs, glad throng of the just. 
Pure flowers that grew in earth's foulness and dust ! 
Rare jewels, w^hose lustre forever shall shine 
In a diadem matchless, unfading, divine ! 
O beauty eternal, that reignest on high ! 
O splendor, concealed from the sin-clouded eye ! 
The ransomed are clad in thy garments of light. 
They wear thy bright laurels who toiled in the fight. 
Thy treasures uncounted their guerdon shall be. 
Whose faith-lighted footsteps have crossed the dark 

sea. 
Who have passed through the thorns of the desert 

of woe, 
To the gladness above, from the sadness below — 
For well the enraptured evangelist paints 
The joy of the Lord in His blood-purchased saints ! 
From the crowded arena, where pagan hate yelled 
And the martyr's glad pasan of victory swelled ; 
From dungeon and gibbet, from rack and from 

wheel, 
From the torturing flame, and the pang-laden steel. 



240 Beside the Western Sea. 

On pinions of light, lo ! the Christian hath flown 
. To the realm of the King — to the martyr-God's 

throne. 
From caves of the desert, from lone forest cells, 
Where the hermit afar in his solitude dwells; 
From the cloistered retre^it, where the dim arches 

rung. 
When the prayer was uplifted, the canticle sung ; 
Where the learned recluse o'er his manuscripts 

pored, 
Till the casket of truth with his wisdom was stored ; 
From the fair lighted altar, the flower-decked shrine, 
Where the priestly hand offers the Victim Divine ; 
From highwa}^ and hovel, where charity's voice 
Bids the penitent weep, and the mourner rejoice, — 
The stewards have passed to their priceless reward, 
The servant hath *' entered the joy of his Lord." 
O Faith ! let thy vision behold the bright throng. 
Let thine ear catch the tone of their jubilant song. 
Earth's children, the lofty and lowly, are there — 
One bliss they enjoy, and one glory they share ; 
For the king and the peasant, the noble, the slave, 
Were one in His service who suffered to save. 
Fair Church, thou dost link, in one mystical tie. 
Thy children below with thy children on high. 
For a holy alliance and union of love 
Binds thee militant here, and triumphant above. 
O Christians, who faint ere the battle is done, 
Look up to the guerdon your brethren have won ! 
Ah ! theirs were your sorrows, your trials, your 

woes, 
Yet they ceaselessly toiled till the glorious close. 



The Church Triiunphant. 241 

Lives wondrous, heroic, lives simple, obscure, 
Lives of sinners repentant, lives stainlessly pure, — 
There are models for all, there are copies most fair, 
And those who " do likewise," one glor}^ shall share. 
O courtiers, that dwell in the realms of the Lamb ! 
O conquerors, crowned with the blood-tinted palm ! 
By the union that binds, in one mystical chain. 
The slaves and the ransomed, and gladness with 

pain, 
Let your influence aid, let your sympathy cheer, 
The pilgrims that toil in the wilderness drear ; 
Let your pleadings give strength to their agonized 

wail — 
Lo ! the promise: "The prayer of the just shall 

avail." 
Ye who treasured the faith, ye who "fought the 

good fight," 
Aid the searcher for truth, aid the strife for the 

right. 
Till victory blesses the magical sword. 
Till the jewel of price to its Lord is restored ; 
Till cleansed is the robe from each blemish that 

taints, 
Till the list is complete of the legion of saints. 



THE TRUCE OF GOD * 

Sir Guy de Courcy,— braver knight 

Ne'er laid a lance in rest, 
Or wore, undimmed, amid the fight, 

A prouder, statelier crest. 
De Montfort was his bitter foe, 

A warrior dear to fame, 
For mighty hosts had felt his blow, 

And trembled at his name ; 

* The sacred compact, styled the Truce of God, was instituted by the 
Church to lessen the fury of the feudal strife that, from the ninth to the 
eleventh century, raged continually among neighboring lords and petty 
chieftains, "Experience," says the historian Fredet, '' having already 
shown the impossibility of stemming the torrent at once, prudent 
measures were taken gi-adually to diminish its violence. Several bishops 
ordered, under penalty of excommunication, that every week, during the 
four days consecrated to the memory of our Saviour's passion, death, 
burial, and resurrection, viz., from the afternoon of Wednesday until 
the morning of the following Monday, whatever might be the cause of 
strife, all private hostilities should cease. Shortly after, the same pro- 
hibition was extended to the whole time of Advent and Lent, includ- 
ing several weeks after Christmas and after Easter Sunday. Thus, by 
the exertions of ecclesiastical authority, the horrors and calamities of 
feudal war began to be considerably lessened and abridged. Its ravages 
were restrained to three days in the week, and to certain seasons of the 
year ; during the intervals of peace there was leisure for passion to coqI, 
for the mind to sicken at a languishing warfare, and for social habits tQ 
become more deeply rooted. Such was the splendid victory which the 
religion of Christ won over the natural fierceness of the ancier^t tribes of 
the North, — a victory whose completion was also due to her influence, 
when the Crusades obliged those restless barbarians to turn against 
invading hordes of Saracens and Turks those weapons they had 
hitherto used against their fellow-Christians." 



The Triice of God. 243 

Yet they who crushed invading band, 

And triumphed side by side, 
Clasped ne'er the kind, fraternal hand, 

Nor shared the victor's pride. 
Ay, they were foemen — fiercest hate 

Burned in each haughty breast, 
And deadly strife alone could sate 

The fiend that each possessed. 

The shadows crept across the plain. 

And lengthened o'er the lea, 
For day had wellnigh ceased to reign 

O'er castled Normandy ; 
Sir Guy, exultant, homeward went 

From well- won border fray, 
De Montfort rode from tournament, 

Bedecked with guerdons gay : 
They met where, draperied with moss, 

And clasped by clinging vine, 
The pilgrim's guide, the wayside cross, 

Told of a woe divine. 
"Hold! hold I" De Montfort fiercely cried, 

" We pass not now, Sir Knight ! " 
" Pause then, " his foeman stern replied, 

"■ And nerve thyself for fight." 
The fiery steeds impatient prance. 

Awaiting fierce command. 
Gleams nov\^ each tried and trusty lance 

Within each mailclad hand. 
" On ! on ! " and forth their chargers rush — 

Ha ! is it coward fear 



244 Beside the Weste7'n Sea. 

That brings the strange and sudden hush 

Upon that mad career ? 
Nay, list ! from yonder convent tower 

Rings out the solemn bell : 
Its echo hath that magic power, 

That strange and soothing spell. 
Ay, it could ban the deadly flow 

That else had drenched the sod, 
And bid each warrior murmur low, 

'' Stay ! 'tis the truce of God ! " 
Now first they raised the startled look 

Where stood redemption's sign, 
And now each haught}^ spirit shook 

With thrill of awe divine. 
Outspoke the brave De Courcy then: 

" Here let our combats cease, 
Nor bring the fiendish strife of men 

Beneath the sign of peace." 
" Nay, heaven forgive our hatred-sin," 

His softened foeman said ; 
** Here shall our truce of love begin. 

Where demon hate hath fled." 
Each from his prancing steed descends, 

Each flings aside his brand. 
And 'neath the cross, as faithful friends, 

Each clasps his foeman's hand ; 
And, shaded by the draping moss, 

There, on the dewy sod. 
They bowed beside that sacred cross, 

And blessed the Truce of God. 



A DREAM OF THE SNOW. 

Old Winter hath no frosty frown 

For thee, O favored land ! 
He weaves thy sunlight's golden crown 

With soft, caressing hand ; 
He brings no chilling robe of snow, 

To shroud thy vestures green ; 
No chains to bind thy brooklet's flow, 

No veil to dim its sheen. 
Though clouds may gather, 'tis to hide 

The soft, benignant rain, 
That bids the rose of Christmas-tide 

A dewy brightness gain. 
No icy blasts thy ruin mourn 

In blighted valleys drear, 
But fragrance on thy breeze is borne 

Through all the blooming year ; 
Yet, as I greet thy glowing skies 

With glad, responsive smile, 
Strange memor3^-pictures meet my eyes, 

Strange visions rise the while : 
Again within the wintry gloom 

A dreaming child I stand, 
And see the snowy garlands bloom 

O'er all the Northern land ; 
Where lately hung the verdant leaves. 

The pendent jewels shine, 
And snow-wreaths o'er the cottage eaves 

Replace the clinging vine. 



246 Beside the Western Sea. 

sweet to watch the soft flakes fall, 
Like gentle doves of peace, 

And greet, with smile and merry call, 

My lambs with downy fleece ; 
My elves that danced in joyous glee, 

Like happ}^ living things, 
My plumes descending noiselessly 

From shining angel- wings. 
And sweet o'er silent roads to hear 

The sleigh-bells' merry ring, 
Or catch the tones, in echoes clear, 

Of skaters' revelling ; 
Till paled above the hillock's crest 

The Winter's sunset glow, 
And moonlight's silver halo blessed 

Earth's bridal robe of snow. 

The dream is o'er ; and glancing down 
From heights serenely bland, 

1 see thy sunlight's golden crown, 

O favored Western land ! 
I smell the sweet aroma-breath 

Of many a dewy flower. 
And find no trace of blight or death 

Within the rose's bower. 
But from thy charms I turn me now, 

And yearn, with fond regret. 
To gaze on Winter's rugged brow. 

With icy jewels set ; 
To watch my angel-plumes again, 

As in " the long ago, " 
And calm life's weary fever-pain 

With visions of the snow. 



CONSECRATED CALIFORNIA. 

She hath bowed at the shrine of eternal love, 
And the snowy wings of the Sacred Dove 
Are softly folded her heart above. 

She hath brought the tribute of gems and gold, 
Like the star-led kings to His home of old, 
And hers shall be guerdon of wealth untold. 

She hath offered the smile of her sunny skies, 
And forth from her cloudland of rainbow dyes 
The shadowless day of her peace shall rise. 

She hath given the stores of her wondrous bowers. 
The balmy bloom of perennial flowers; 
And love with the beauty of Eden dowers 

Each dewy meadow and bright parterre, 
Till the robe of our beautiful land shall wear 
The radiant bloom of His kingdom fair. 

She hath woven the links of a spousal chain, 
And the night of ages shall strive in vain 
One link to rust, or to rend in twain. 

And light is that band on her blissful breast — 
'Tis a burden sweet, 'tis a slavery blest, 
Tis the bond that brineeth eternal rest. 



248 Beside the Western Sea, 

'Tis a ladder of light, 'tis a mystic stair, 

'Tis the pathway blest for the angels fair, 

That for ever shall float through her charmed air. 

Be true, dear land, to thy plighted vow. 
At the sacred shrine thou hast chosen now, 
Still bend thy shining and spotless brow ; 

And the worldly sword and the demon art 

Can never sunder thy bands apart, 

O beautiful spouse of the Sacred Heart ! 



THE GUARD OF HONOR TO THE SACRED 

HEART. 

They come in still succession to keep the hour of 

guard. 
Around His throne the}^ linger, in silent watch and 

ward ; 
They bear His badge of service, as at His feet they 

bow, 
To pledge their fond submission, to breathe their 

solemn vow ; 

* The guard of honor is the beautiful title of an association formed in 
Europe to honor, in an especial manner, the Sacred Heart of Jesus. 
This devotion is most appropriate for the month of June, the lovely 
season so fittingly consecrated to that tender and compassionate Heart. 
Each member chooses an hour of guard, during which he or she remains 
in silent adoration before the Sacred Heart. 



The Guard of Honor. 249 

While in His audience-chamber He keepeth kingly 

state, 
His chosen guard of honor in ranks unbroken wait. 
Swift fly the summer hours, soft dies the rosy day, 
And still His kneeling subjects their eager homage 

pay. 
Ah ! why that waiting legion ? And whose the 

royal throne, 
So hid in crowded cities, to countless throngs 

unknown ? 

worldung-throng insensate! O fettered slaves of 

pride ! 
They come to " watch one hour," the Victim-God 

beside. 
That hidden throne is canopied by angels' tender 

wings, 

1 hat still, secluded temple conceals the King of 

kings ; 
In heaven's fondest worship earth takes her eager 

part, 
When mortals bow before Him, to guard His 

Sacred Heart. 
With spotless lilies blooming before their type 

divine, 
With roses pouring incense upon His holy shrine. 
With tapers sending steadfastly their upward- 
pointing flame, 
With bells that hail His coming in silv'ry, soft 

acclaim, — 
With all that nature offereth, with all that earth 

can bring, 
Each heart its worship blendeth, low bowed before 

its Kinof. 



250 Beside the Western Sea. 

Love's bloom and blest aroma, love's shining- altar- 
flame, 
Love's soft and silv'ry utterance that chimes His 

sacred name. 
The sweet soul-flowers that charm Him with fresh, 

unfading grace, 
Before His sacred portals His guarding legions 

place. 
They proffer fond atonement for hearts unkind, 

untrue, 
They sigh, ** Forgive them, Father, who know not 

what they do ; " 
They bring the glad thank-offering for Love's re- 
deeming birth. 
They hail the boon celestial of blessed "• Peace on 

earth." 
They sound the ceaseless echo of heaven's eternal 

psalm 
Of " Praise and benediction, and glory to the 

Lamb!" 
O heaven on earth reflected by heav'nly watch 

and ward ! 
O servitude seraphic ! O grand and glorious guard ! 
Be faithful, blessed legions, and may the band ye 

bear 
Of spirit-service loyal be still the symbol fair. 
Within your hearts imprinted by fond, celestial art, 
"Keep e'er, in sweet similitude, your Sov'reign's 

Sacred Heart: 
The thorny wreath, the crowning cross, the flames 

that soar above, 
The glowing hue, the open wound, the life-blood of 

His love. 



The Treasures of the Church. 251 

The mystic signs thus bearing- upon your pilgrim- 
path, 

Ye shall escape the angel sword of stern, relentless 
wrath ; 

And in Love's fadeless kingdom His guard shall 
claim their part, 

And draw sweet waters from the fount of His 
exhaustless heart. 



THE TREASURES OF THE CHURCH. 

''Bring forth the Deacon Laurence !" 

And at the mighty tone 
Low bowed the servile lictors 

Before the prefect's throne; 
And on their guarded captive 

The rabble gazed with awe — 
Was this the hated Christian, 

The foe of Roman law ? 
He stood, a young Apollo, 

A form of godlike grace. 
While beams of lambent glory 

Seemed circling round his face ; 
And yet no haughty flashing 

Of fierce, rebellious eye 
Bespoke defiant scorning 

Of Roman majesty. 
Ah, no ! his look reflected 

His Master's gentle mien. 



252 Beside the Wester^i Sea. 

The calmness, meek and lowly, 
That marked the Nazarene ; 

But in his eye's soft beaming, 
And on his placid brow, 

They read the hero-firmness 
To duty's sacred vow. 

^- -K- vf 7f * -x- 

"We hear of priceless treasures 

That Christians dare to own — 
Of jewels meet to glisten 

On regal brows alone ; 
Of wealth of shining silver, 

And store of gleaming gold, 
Which thou, the foe of Caesar, 

Dost in thy caskets hold/' 
The Christian's brow was lifted, 

And new, celestial grace 
Enrobed that matchless figure, 

And crowned that seraph face. 
*' 'Tis true, O mighty prefect ! 

A store of priceless gems. 
Of jewels meet to glisten 

In regal diadems — 
A wealth of shining silver, 

Of bright, uncounted gold. 
The Christians, friends to Cagsar, 

As peerless treasures hold." 
"Ha! say'st thou so? then listen : 

Nor rack, nor scorching flame, 
Shall crisp thy flesh to blackness, 

Or rend thy writhing fiame ; 



The Treasures of the Church. 253 

Nor fear of shrine polluted 

Shall haunt thy visions more, 
If thou in safety hither 

Wilt bring the Christians' store." 
*' Thanks, O most gracious prefect ! 

And when three days have flown 
My treasures shall be gathered 

Before thy lofty throne." 

4f -vf TV- ^ 4f "X" 

On sandals, winged with swiftness, 

Have sped the days of grace, 
And Rome's exultant minion 

Sits eager in his place ; 
And round him throng the rabble, 

Impatient to behold 
The store of shining jewels, 

The wealth of gleaming gold. 
Again that steady footstep, 

Again that noble form. 
Have hushed to awesome silence 

The gath'ring murmur-storm. 
" But where the priceless treasures?" 

They ask in whispers low, 
"And who are these that follow, 

With feeble steps and slow?" 
Sooth, 'twas a vision wondrous 

The blind, the nnite, the lame, 
A throng of squalid paupers. 

Along the forum came. 
Their youthful leader heeds not 

The idlers gathered there, 



2 54 Beside the Western Sea. 

But calmh' guides them onward, 

Before the curule chair. 
'' Behold the Christian treasures, 

Behold each living gem, 
More fair than fairest jewels 

In proudest diadem ; 
More bright than sheen of silver, 

More rich than gleaming gold. 
Are these, the Master's dear ones. 

The Church's wealth untold." 

•X- -sf vr -Jr 7^ vf 

O Christians! through the ages 

Love's legacies descend, 
The store of gems uncounted, 

The wealth that cannot end. 
*' The poor ye still have with you,'* 

The jewels of His crown, 
To mirror heaven's glory. 

And shed its peace adown. 
O guard His treasures fondly, 

And bid them ceaseless shine, 
In love's resplendent setting, 

In mercy's golden shrine! 
So shall ye enter boldly 

The palace of your King, 
With wealth eternal laden, 

As royal offering. 



THE HOLY FATHER'S SILVER JUBILEE. 

Hail, golden year of benison and jubilee sublime! 

Hail, brightest of the gems that deck the jewelled 
zone of time ! 

O well may glad Te Deiivis ring through many a 
holy fane, 

Where faith's enraptured children wake the clear 
triumphal strain, 

Till hearts, o'erfraught with happiness, shall mur- 
mur, 'mid their glee, 

"Ah! ^minc dimittisl' we have seen our Father's 
jubilee ! " 

Exult, O nations, halo-crowned ! with loud evvivas 
ring ! 

Hail, Pio Nono, pastor true! all hail, our Pontift- 
King ! 

Hail to the brow that yet doth wear its glorious 
triple crown ! 

Hail to the hand that would not lay its ancient 
sceptre down ! 

Hail to the form that ne'er hath quailed before the 
tempest-shock! 

Hail, faithful feet, that firmly stand on truth's eter- 
nal rock ! 

O wonderful pontificate! O glory-circled reign ! 

When memory wakes thy golden years to life and 
light again. 



2s6 Beside the Western Sea. 



Swift gliding o'er that shining path, what scenes of 
magic hue, 

What fair, celestial pageants pass before her dazzled 
view ! 

Lo, shrined amid the mystic stars that shed their 
wondrous gleam. 

The brightest form in all the blest apocalyptic 
dream ! 

Low bowed before that figure fair, thus throned in 
royal state, 

We fondly breathe her fitting name, our Queen Im- 
maculate ! 

Behold the pontiff hand that writes, in lines of fade- 
less flame. 

Above her starry diadem, that pure and peerless 
name ; 

List to the voice resounding clear, amid our earthly 
din, 

Immaciilata ! Snowy bloom, unstained by primal sin I 

Borne on the breath of spicy gales, across a sunlit 

sea, 
Comes now in clear and ceaseless tones a matchless 

history, — 
A tale that tells, in trumpet notes, of hearts serene 

and strong, 
Of hands that bear the mystic palm amid the victor 

throng ; 
Of feet that trod the thorny path, and crossed the 

crimson flood. 
Of robes that wear the royal hue, bestowed by 

martyr blood. 



The Holy Fat heir's Silver Jubilee. 257 

And once again that potent hand hath traced its 

blest decree, 
And lo, the deathless list records that wondrous 

histor}' ! 
O Christians! greet the shining throng, and fondest 

homage pay : 
Hail, sainted heroes of Japan ! hail, martyrs of Cathay/ 

The golden days are speeding on to join the phantom 

past, 
Until the glad triumphal morn in glory dawns at last; 
And now the crowning vision wakes at mem'ry's 

call again, 
The wondrous pageant grandly moves, a vast 

majestic train : 
A priestly-vestured multitude, a pure, anointed 

throng, 
The dauntless soldiers of the cross, the fearless foes 

of wrong. 
Why tread they thus thy throughfares, O star- 
encircled Rome ? 
Why peal the silver clarion notes within thy mighty 

dome? 
A magic voice from Peter's Rock hath rung from 

land to land, 
The legions of the deathless King have heard the 

blest command ; 
Their ranks are formed, their voices ring in clear, 

responsive tone, 
Their consecrated armies bow before the Pontiff's 

throne. 



258 Beside the Western Sea. 

They gather on that Living Rock, o'er billows tem- 
pest-tossed, 

And on each sacred brow descends the flame of 
Pentecost. 

The Council ends, the task is o'er, the work of 
triumph done, 

And for the signet-ring of Truth its brightest jewel 
won. 

Sweet promise kept ! O star-eyed Truth, thy foes 
can ne'er prevail ! 

Thy flock shall know the shepherd voice that cannot faiitt 
or fail. 

And now, while still the golden days in swift proces- 
sion flee, 

Behold ! again the pontiff" hand inscribes its blest 
decree. 

And he whose faithful arm sustained the jewel 
shrined in clay, 

Still shields the casket whence it shed its life-bestow- 
ing ray ; 

The stainless lily blooms beside, and angels bend 
above. 

The eucharistic cradle watched by JosepJi s matchless 
love. 

^.-X- -X- ■«• * * 4f ^ * 

O glorious pontificate ! well may thy shining days 

Receive the meed of fadeless fame, the pealing tones 
of praise ! 

Hail, then, bright year of benison and jubilee sub- 
lime. 

For ever let thy glory light the jewelled zone of time ! 



The Vatican Council. 259 

For ever let the echoed notes of glad Te Deiuns ring, 
And loud evvivas ceaseless cr\', All hail, our Pontift- 

King ! 
O faithful shepherd ! in thy fold, upon the Living 

Rock, 
Still keep afar from wolf and snare thy vast, 

unnumbered flock. 
Till, resting safe in pastures fair, their purer 

glances see, 
By angel throngs for ever kept, thy fitting jubilee. 



THE VATICAN COUNCIL. 

Up, princes of a deathless realm ! 

Up, soldiers of the King ! 
Up, in the strength of hands enclasped, 

And ranks that closely cling ! 
Haste, on the pinions of the breeze, 

From isles of tropic bloom, 
From fartli'rest depths of desert wastes. 

From lands of polar gloom. 
Come from the radiant Eastern climes. 

Come from the boundless West ; 
Come with the lance in loyal hand. 

The shield on knightly breast. 
Come with your helmets gleaming fair, 

Your banners waving high ; 
On ! for the trump of battle sounds, 

The conflict-hour is nigh I 



26o Beside the Westeim Sea. 

They come, obedient to the call, 

True soldiers of the King ; 
One aim, one cause, one soulis> theirs, 

One standard forth they fling. 
5 They gather from remotest realms, 

From regions strange and far. 
Yet naught can break their serried ranks, 

Their firm alliance bar. 
Ah ! whose the tones of mystic might. 

The fondly answered call — 
The voice that rings o'er land and sea. 

To rouse its legions all? 
And who are 3^e who journey far 

O'er mount, and wave, and waste ? 
Who claims your willing service-vows? 

What strife doth bid ye haste? 
Our Father's is the voice of strength 

That sounds o'er land and sea ; 
He calls his knights, whose order blest 

Arose in Galilee. 
The Pontiff-King, the ruler throned 

On faith's eternal rock ; 
The pastor of one world-wide fold, 

True shepherd o'er one flock; 
The Vicar of the Prince of Peace, 

Pure leader of the right ; 
The chief who rules a bloodless strife, 

'Gainst wrong's rebellious might, — 
We are his vassals, vowed, till death. 

To service fond and leal ; 
Our strength is as the granite firm, 

Our hearts are hearts of steel. 



The Vatican Council. 261 

We gather for a just Crusaae, 

A contest pure and blest ; 
The cross our lance and standard fair, 

Our shield for knightly breast. 
We battle for the cause of Truth, 

Her shining sword we wield, 
And, till her holy land be won, 

We falter not, nor yield. 
We haste to bid our helmets gleam, 

Our potent arms be bright ; 
To make our magic bucklers firm, 

To gird our limbs for rignt. 
Hail, army of the Prince of Peace ! 

Hail, legions of the Lamb ! 
Bear home the verdant olive-branch, 

And wear the victor's palm ! 



A RHYME OF CONGRATULATION. 

[Respectfully inscribed to His Grace, the Most Rev. Archbishop 
of San Francisco, on the twenty-fifth anniversary of his consecration 
as Bishop of Monterey. ] 

While came the stately vessels fraught, from deck 
to deepest hold, 

With Argonautic hosts who sought the fairy fleece 
of gold, 

Another pilgrim staff was placed within a steadfast 
hand. 

Another pilgrim pathway traced unto the sunset 
land ; 

But not to seek the treasure fair within the dark- 
some mine. 

And bow in blindest worship, there, at Mammon's 
crowded shrine. 

No earthly dross that toiler sought, but to the West- 
ern shore 

A richer, rarer boon he brought than all its golden 
store : 

The pure and priceless gifts of peace, the gems of 
faith and love. 

The shining wealth that can not cease, from depth- 
less mines above. 



A Rhyme of Co)ioratiilation. 26'^ 

. And, crowning all, the gem of gems, the treasure 

sweetly hid 
In calm, secluded Bethlehems, the desert wastes 

amid : 
Strentrth for the " burden and the heat" of earth's 

too torrid day, 
Rest for the worn and weary feet that falter by the 

way : 
Pure manna-bread, bestowing life, and '' wine that 

maketh glad, '' 
That giveth courage for the strife, and comfort to 

the sad. 
Lo! this the wealth that pilgrim brought from lands 

beyond the sea. 
And ah ! with ceaseless care he wrought to shed its 

bounty free. 
Behold the rich result of toil — the harvest full and 

fair. 
That ripened on the barren soil of desert bleak and 

bare ; 
E'en 'mid the sheen of worldly dross, with pure, 

unfading glow. 
The golden glory of the cross transfigures all below. 
Where faith's rock-founded temples rise, the earthly 

mists above. 
Crowned, in the light of fadeless skies, with halo 

flame of love. 
[n cloister homes, serene and calm, the vestal fire of 

truth, 
Lit by the spouses of the Lamb, illumes the heart of 

youth ; 



264 Beside the IV e stem Sea. 

The orphan flocks no longer roam on higliways 

bleak and cold, 
For theirs is now the peaceful home in mercy's 

sacred fold ; 
And where the brows of fever burn, sweet watchers 

hover nigh, 
And bid the dying glances turn to peace and rest 

on high. 
O loved archbishop, pastor true, to thee our thanks 

belono^ ! 
O bravest hand to dare and do, O strongest 'mid 

the strong ! 
Beneath thy fond and fost'ring care the ripened 

harvest shines, 
The guarded vineyard gleam eth fair with fruit of 

laden vines ; 
The fount of grace in fulness flows, to cool the 

noonday heat, 
"The desert blossoms like the rose," with dewy 

gardens sweet. 
Ah! once again, through misty years, we turn the 

backward gaze. 
Again, at memory's call, appears the train of " early 

days:" 
Again we see the crozier placed within thy stead- 
fast hand. 
Again thy pilgrim path is traced unto the sunset 

land ; 
Again thy wondrous work is wrought upon the 

Western shore, 
Until our favored land is fraught with rich, unfailing 

store. 



A RJiyme oj Congratiication. 265 

And as these golden visions glide in swift succession 

by, 
How swells each heart with grateful pride, how 

glad thy children's cry ! 
Ah ! bright for us the festal glow of silver jubilee, 
For, five-and-twenty years ago, our father crossed 

the sea. 



y 



A WELCOME TO 

RIGHT REV. BISHOP O'CONNELL. 



A WELCOME TO 

RIGHT REV. BISHOP O'CONNELL, 

ON HIS ARRIVAL AT MARYSVILLE, CALIFORNIA. 
[Recited by the Pupils of the Convent of Notre Dame. ] 



PART I. 

The Younger Pupils. Song of Welcome. {Air, ''A 
Wet SJieet and a Flozving Sea'' ) 

(Solo.) — We haste, we haste to welcome thee, 
Our humble gifts we bring ; 
With voices mingled, glad and free, 

Our simple lay we sing. 
These gentle flowers shall sweetly tell 

Our tale of joy and love, 
And be the types of flowers that dwell 
In fadeless bowers above. 
{Cho7'2is.) — And thus we haste to welcome thee, 
Our humble gifts we bring ; 
With voices mingled, glad and free, 
Our simple lay we sing. 
First Speaker. — Mine is a gift of peerless grace 
The fairest flower that grows : 
The monarch of a lovely race 
Is she, the rei^al rose. 



270 Beside the Western Sea. 

And symbol of that perfect queen 

Of sister virtues rare, 
Sweet charity ! her type is seen 
Shrined in its bosom fair. 

Second Speaker. — Deep in the moss, a jewel set, 
I found the lowly violet ; 
Its fairest charm I offer thee. 
The type of sweet humility. 

Third Speaker. — On my purple floweret see 
Fair reward of piety : 
Striving God alone to please, 
Thus we find our best hearfs-ease. 

Fourth Speaker. — I chose the flower that loves 
to dwell 
Deep in the verdant mossy dell — 
Forget-me-not ! That tender name 
For us a priceless boon shall claim : 
A constant place and endless share 
In our dear bishop's heart and prayer. 

Address. {Presentation of Bouquet^ 

Receive, O honored prelate, now, 

The homage fond, sincere. 
Which we, with smiles on lip and brow, 

Have come to offer here ! 
And take our gift— these blossoms bear, 

Upon their petals bright, 
Sweet types of graces pure and fair, 

Fit gems for spirits white. 
Thou wilt not scorn thy children's love, 

For He, the Saviour mild 



Right Rev. Bis I top OConnelL 271 

Thousfh Kino- of fadeless realms above, 

Became a little child. 
Ah ! thou wilt guard, with fondest care, 

With watchful tenderness, 
From dang-ers dark and lurking snare, 

The lambs He deigned to bless. 
Thy potent pra3^ers will safely shrine 

Each sacred spirit-gem. 
Till all shall gleam, with light divine. 

In love's own diadem. 



PART II. 

Scene I. — The Welcome. [For ilic Young Ladies^ 

First Speaker. — A gladsome morn is this, sweet 
friends, and joy 
Reigns, crowned and smiling, o'er our hearts to day 
The boon we sought — the fair, the priceless boon, 
So long the burden of each earnest prayer. 
At length is granted : from his distant home. 
Across the water}- waste, fair angel guides 
Have led our honored prelate — he is here ! 
Here in our very midst ! O joyous words ! 
What power is theirs to thrill each yearning heart ! 
Safe here at last — our bishop, father, friend ! 
From his anointed hands how will the balm 
Of benedictions, like the dew of heaven. 
Descend on worthy brows! Inspired words 
Will echo, like sweet music, through the depths 
Of each enraptured spirit; soothing smiles 
Shall light each jov and banish everv care. 



2'] 2 Beside the Western Sea. 

Beloved ones, how shall we welcome him ? 
How give him greeting? In what fitting form 
Shall we express the joy, the love, the hope, 
His coming bringeth? Speak, O gentle friends. 

Second Speaker. — Let us prepare an offering 
most meet 
To prove our faithful love, and sj'mbolize 
The glorious gifts and graces which bedeck 
Our prelate's favored soul. 

Third Speaker. — A happy thought ! 
But what, sweet friends, shall this fond tribute be? 
Where shall we find a fitting gift for him ? 

Fourth Speaker. — What fairer gift, O dear ones, 
can we bring 
Than those sweet types of ev'ry gentle grace. 
Nature's briglit gems — the pure, dew- laden flowers : 
They breathe in fragrance, and in glowing hues, 
Affection's fondest language. One whose soul 
Was robed, as with a mantle, in sweet thoughts. 
Hath aptly stvled these ornaments of earth 
" The angels' alphabet," by which they write. 
In gleaming words of fragrant syllables, 
A glorious poem, that our longing eyes 
May read therein the beauty and the bliss 
Which reign supreme in dear and distant heaven. 

Fifth Speaker.— A lovelv fancv ! It doth well 
befit 
A poet's soul. Appropriate gifts, mdeed. 
Are the sweet blossoms — but thy thought is late; 
Already have the lambkins of our flock 
Selected and entwined these graceful types 



Right Rev. Bishop O'Connell. 273 

Of virtue and affection, to present 
Unto our honored bishop. 

Sixth Speaker.— In that home 

Of fadeless bliss and beauty music reigns, 
And perfect harmonies and sweet accords 
Express the jo}^ and love of perfect souls : 
Let us, then, in our gladness, imitate 
Feebly, but willingly, the angel choirs — 
Ay, let us tell our happiness in song. 
In sweet, melodious notes, and gladsome strains, 

let us welcome him! 

Seventh Speaker. — Ay, that is well; 

He \\\\\ not scorn e'en humble lays like ours. 
In this, the spring-time of our lives, 'tis meet 
That each young heart, like freest woodland bird. 
Should warble forth its happiness in song ; 
And he will listen, with indulgent ear, 
I'o our imperfect notes, for the\' shall swell, 
Like fresh, glad fountains, from o'erflowing hearts. 

EiGHiH Speaker. — And now, O dear compan- 
ions, let us choose 
One from our number, who, in fitting words, 
Will speak our joyous welcome, and implore 
For us, the youthful members of his flock, 
A little share of his paternal love 
And tender guardianship. For this sweet task 

1 here select thee, Mary ; and I know, 
O sweet associates, this choice is yours. 

{All.) — It is, it is, our glad, united choice. 
Mary. — You have conferred on me, too partial 
friends, 
A dignity, an honor, which, in truth, 



2 74 Beside the Western Sea* 

I do not merit — I am all unfit 

To execute this sweet, but solemn task. 

With faltering tongue and words inadequate 

How can I well express those glowing thoughts, 

Those earnest feelings, with which your fond souls 

Are rife on this glad morn? And yet my heart 

Prompts me to make the effort for your sakes, 

And for the joy which, with you, I partake. 

My greeting shall be uttered from the depths 

Of my full heart: 'twill be, at least, sincere. 

Now, for a time, a little time, dear ones, 

We separate, here to unite again. 

To give, with mingled hearts and blended smiles, 

Our joyous welcome, our enduring love, 

Unto our dear and venerated friend. 

{Exeunt. 



Scene II 

{Song?) — We greet thee, we greet thee, 

With smile and with song. 
Like fountains, gay, gladsome, and free ; 

Joy swells from the hearts 

That have followed thee long, 
In thy way o'er the boundless sea. 
And now a fond tribute, united, sincere, 

We give thee, our father and friend ; 
To hail thy glad coming, to welcome thee here, 

Our hearts with our voices shall blend. 



Right Rev. Bishop 0'Con7iclL 275 

{Address.) — To thy new home beside the Western 
Sea, 
O father loved ! we gladly welcome thee, 
For eager hearts have watched and waited long 
To greet thee here with blended smile and song; 
Here, at thy feet, their homage fond to pay, 
And bless the dawn of this most gladsome day. 
Before thee, now, our ]-everent heads we bend, 
And fondly hail our bishop, father, friend. 
Receive our greeting, humble, yet sincere, 
To la3's unskilled, ah ! lend a patient ear. 
These joyous smiles are free from guileful art, 
These simple strains gush warm from each young 

heart — 
Accept them, then, and grant thy children's prayer : 
Place in thy heart, and kind paternal care. 
Fondly we thank the love, the zeal, that made 
Thy willing footsteps quit the classic shade. 
And from the pure and peaceful joys that smile 
llieir benedictions on thv favored isle, 
Depart, obedient to thy Lord's behest. 
To His new vineyard, planted in the West. 
Ah ! faithful servant, 'tis a sterile soil, 
Yet richest fruit shall bless thy patient toil. 
A helpless flock, long pressed by sorest need, 
Shall gladly hasten, from thy hand to feed ; 
And from wolf-haunted paths and mountains cold 
Th}' \'oice shall guide each wand'rer to the fold. 
Here is proud conquest for thy Lord and King, 
A noble empire 'neath His rule to bring; 
New lustre here for heaven's fair renown. 
New gems to sparkle in thv monarch's crown ; 



276 Beside the Western Sea. 

Souls of uncounted value, here, to win 

From the vile slavery of sordid sin; 

Hearts to be purged from all their worldly dross, 

Wills to be vanquished by the saving cross. 

Holy thy task, and priceless th)'^ reward 

From the rich bounty of thy well-served Lord — 

The fairest boon to faithful servants given: 

A glorious title in His court of heaven. 

Once more we hail thee, conqueror, pastor, friend, 

Once more our reverent hearts to thee we bend ; 

And once again, with smiles on lip and brow. 

Our faithful love we fondly proffer now. 

And of thy gifts, again we claim our share : 

Place in thy heart, and portion in th}^ prayer ; 

For well we know tliat, strengthened, shielded thus, 

Thy heaven-sent graces shall descend on us: 

Strength to endure the tempest's blighting power, 

Light to discern the rainbow tlirough the shower; 

Wisdom to count all earthly things as dross, . 

Courage to glory only in the cross ; 

Faith for life's noon, and peace to bless its even. 

Eternal freedom when its bonds are riven ; 

And place, with thee, amid the white-robed band, 

In the bright pastures of the better land. 

(5^;/^.)^Once more we hasten to swell the glad 
strain, 

With voices united and free ; 
Heart-smiles and heart-greetings we offer again, 

O heaven-sent Bishop, to thee ! 
And thus our glad tribute, united, sincere, 

We give thee, our father, our friend ; 
To swell the glad chorus, to welcome thee here, 

Our hearts and our voices shall blend. 



Right Rev. Bishop GConnell. 277 



Address. {With presentation of Stole) 

A duty sweet remains for me — 

A task with purest pleasure fraught, 

To offer here, on bended knee, 

The gift which willing hands have wrought. 

Accept it now — a wealth of love, 

With every shining thread we wove. 

Though all undecked with costly gem, 
No jewel from the gleaming mine, 

Set in a monarch's diadem. 

With half so pure a ray could shine 

As the rich treasure, hidden here : 

Affection's jewels, pure and clear. 

Thy children's hearts with new delight 
Will throb, when thou wilt deign to wear 

Their offering at the sacred rite, 
That so the incense of thy prayer 

On fragrant wings may upward lift 

Alike the givers and the gift. 

Again in gratitude to thee. 

Our loved Archbishop," here we bow, 
For many a priceless memory 

Of thy fond care clings round us now. 
May lieaven's best gifts, like dew, descend 
On thcc, our father and our friend ! 

' IJis Grace liic Most Rev. Arclihishi^'i nf San Francisco. 



278 Beside the Western Sea, 

Thus fond remembrance shall enshrine 
Our faithful pastors, tried and true, 

And love, in golden chain, shall twine 
Ahke the old friends and the new. 

Fathers ! its bond can ne'er be riven — 

'Tis linked to one dear name in heaven."^ 



BETHLEHEM AT THE -MATER MISERI- 

CORDIS." t > 

O SEMBLANCE fair ! O scene sublime, 
Sweet picture of the Christmas time! 
Grouped in the dimly-lighted room, 
As in the grotto's mystic gloom, 
Once more the sacred scenes I see 
Of love's most wondrous history: 
The dreary cave, the beasts that fed 
Beside their Maker's lowly bed ; 
The guardian just, the mother mild, 
Low bowed before the Holv Child : 



* The beloved and lamented Father Slattery, late pastor of Marys - 
ville. 

t The above lines were suggested by a visit to a most beautiful and 
touching representation of Bethlehem and the sacred manger, where 
" Christ the Lord was born." This really wonderful scene occupies the 
whole of a spacious room at the " Mater Misericordias/' adjoining St. 
Mary's Hospital, and, like it, under the charge of the noble Sisters of 
Mercy. The manger, or grotto, occupies the foreground, and in the 
distance is a view of Bethlehem, with its cottages and spacious castle- 
The latter is illuminated by lights placed within, producing a very 



Representation of Bethlehem. 279 

The shepherds three — His earthly train, 
First subjects, hast'ning from the plain, 
To hail Messiah's longed-for reign. 
While angel throngs, attendants fair. 
Courtiers of heaven, are watching there. 
And from its bleak hills, looking down, 
Lo. Bethlehem's chill and churlish town, 
With spacious castle, fair and proud, 
Where splendor shines, and mirth is loud ! 
And, nestled near that princely dome.. 
Full manv a cheerful cottage home; 
Full many an inn, where welcome rest 
Was proffered to the wealthy guest: 
But, on that night of cold and gloom. 
For heaven's King earth had no room ; 
And earth's first Christmas words of cheer 
Were rude rebuff and scornful sneer. 
Ah, well that wondrous room portrays 
The contrast, to my awe-struck gaze, 
'Twixt love divine and human pride — 
Meet picture for the Christmas-tide ! 
And, journeying from the East afar. 
Still gazing on their guiding star, 

pretty effect. In front of the castle extends a plain, covered with turf 
and grass, on which flocks of sheep are seen quietly feeding. Approach- 
ing the borders of the plain are the three Eastern kings, or Magi, gazing 
steadfastly on the mysterii>us star. The figures are all life-size. The 
kings are richly robed, and bear golden vases and caskets. This beau- 
tiful scene has been constructed with no little labor and expense, and is 
one of the many proofs of the affectionate solicitude of the kind Sisters 
in providing for the pleasure and edification of the truly fortunate inmates 
of the " Mater Misericordia:," or home for virtuous young girls out of 
employment, and exposed to the perils of the " wide, wide world." 



2 8o Beside the Western Sea. ' 

Again I see the eager kings, 
With gleaming gifts of precious things — 
Great monarchs, chosen to adore 
Where poorest shepherds knelt before ! 

vs- vr vr vr -X- -vf 4f -Sf 

O vision fair ! O scene subHme, 
Sweet picture for the Christmas time ! 
Ah, Mercy's home is fitting place 
. Love's tender story thus to trace ! 
For, love like His hath labored here 
Fair dwelling tor " His own " to rear — 
Sweet resting-place \ox weary age, 
For homeless youth rich- heritage: 
And so 'tis meet that unto them 
Be shown blest dreams of Bethlehem. 
And they, too, that from worldly din. 
From care and strife, from pride and sin, 
Come up, as pilgrims, to the shrine 
Of lowliness and peace divine, 
To linger *' e'en one hour " beside 
The crib where God hath deigned to hide,- 
Shall learn sweet lessons, holy themes 
For musings blest and sacred dreams; 
And thence shall bear full many a gem 
Of graces, won from Bethlehem, 
And fondly hail love's ceaseless birth. 
Where heaven descends, each day, to earth, 
In Mercy's home, serene and fair, 
'Neath "Mater Misericordias's" care. 



THE CHRISTIAN BROTHERS BURYING 

THE DEAD ON THE BATTLE-FIELD 

OF CHAMPIGNY* 

[An incident of the Franco-Prussian War.] 

A SNOW-HEAPED plain — a grim and ghastly sight, 
With crimson stains o'er all its gleaming white ; 
And stark, still forms death's dreary harvest yield. 
In dread abundance, on that frozen field. 
Night brooding near, and torches' lurid glow 
Shedding weird lustre o'er the place of Avoe, 
Yet weaving wreaths of radiance, rich and rare, 
Round love's brave legions, calmly gathered there. 
How gleams the halo o'er each hero-head, 
Serenely bowed above the stern-faced dead ! 
How, framed in splendor, shine the figures brave. 
That tireless bend, till ev'ry soldier's grave, 
By steadfast hand, by firm, unceasing toil, 
At last is conquered from the churlish soil ; 

* For three days after the engagements of November 29th and 30tli, 
sixty Brothers of the Christian Schools were occupied in that noble 
work of mercy — the burial of the dead. " Some" (I quote from a work 
entitled, "The Brothers of the Christian Schools, during the war of 
1870 and 1871," ''attacked, with spade and shovel, the frost- hardened 
ground; others, carrying stretchers on their backs, went into ihe 
Prussian lines. On the third morning, when the Brothers return to 
complete their mournful task, they find the trenches half filled with 
snow. The first thing to be done is to shovel out the snow : which done, 



282 Beside the Westei^n Sea. 

And reverent hands uplift the valiant dead, 

And lay the warrior in his earthly bed ! 

And when the grave has ta'en its solemn trust, 

And dust is given to its kindred dust; 

When the last sod each sepulchre hath sealed. 

And life's fair germs rest in their "Holy Field," 

Then the brave hands that wrought the work ot 

love 
Are fondly raised those hills of death above. 
And on the still and star-illumined air 
Floats the sweet incense of the toilers' prayer. 
Their De Profundis, in its solemn strain, 
Bindeth the dead with love's eternal chain. 
And weaves fair wreaths of heaven's blest renown — 
The Christian Brothers' amaranthine crown. 



they proceed to the burying of the last bodies. At evening, there were 
still some bodies at the edge of the trenches ; the shovels rattled on the 
hard earth with a dull, sullen sound, and the torchlight flickered 
drearily. The last corpse was at length buried, and the Brothers knelt 
together on the earth, and recited the De Profundis, the final bene- 
diction and last farewell of the Christian to those that are no more " — ' 
Noble soldiers of the Prince of Peace ! Glorious sons of De Pa 
Salle ! Worthy companions of the saintly, the heroic, Brother Philipp^' ! 
Eternal honor to the Brothers of the Christian Schools ! 



THE "MATER MISERICORDI^." * 

The world doth rear its stately domes, 

Its palaces of pride, 
Where art and beauty find their homes. 

And pomp and power abide; 
There rank and wealth full proudly reign, 

There pleasure keepeth state, 
There gathers oft a goodly train, 

The lofty and the great. 

* The " Mater Misericordise " is the beautiful and appropriate name 
for the home for females of good character, who are out of employ- 
ment, or deprived of the safe shelter of home. This noble institution 
is under the charge of the Sisters of Mercy, and is situated between the 
St. Mary's Hospital building and the " Home for Aged and Infirm 
Females," corner of First and Bryant Streets, San Francisco. The above 
lines were written with the object of aiding, as far as the writer's 
humble ability will permit, this truly noble and praiseworthy under- 
taking of the devoted Sisters of Mercy. The Home is a spacious build- 
ing, containing sewing-rooms, dormitories, dining-rooms, kitchen, etc. 
Here the inmates are taught dressmaking, plain sewing (both by hand 
and machine), ironing, and indeed all kinds of housework. A quantity 
of ready-made clothing and articles of needle- work are kept constantly 
on hand, and offered for sale at very reasonable prices. Orders fur 
work are earnestly solicited. A visit to this noble institution will be 
found sufficiently interesting to repay the journey thither; and the least 
assistance, either by purchasing articles, bringing work, or inducing 
others, by a "word in season," to give orders for work, will be remem- 
bered most gratefully by the good Sisters, and will merit the rich 
recompense promised by the God of mercy to those who give even "the 
Midow's mite " or the "cup of cold water " in His name. 



284 Beside the Western Sea. 

But I have seen a grander hall, 

A mansion fairer far, 
Where fadeless beauty decks the wall, 

And rarest treasures are : 
^ 'Tis '' Mater Misericordias's " home, 

'Tis Mercy's hall of state, 
Where reign, beneath its shelt'ring dome, 

The rulers truly orreat. 

The lowly handmaids of the King, 

The spouses of the Lamb, 
Their sweet dominion hither bring, 

Their sway benign and calm. 
Sisters of Mercv, rulers sweet ! 

Your gentle realm is here. 
Where virtue finds its safe retreat 

From peri] and from fear. 

Ay^ here the precious charge ye take, 

The tender watch and ward. 
And fondly, for the Master's sake, 

His treasures here ye guard. 
Home for the homeless I blest repose 

For wearv pilgrim-feet I 
Safe shelter when the desert glows 

With fiercest noontide heat ! 

Sweet words of comfort, teachmgs fond, 
To guide through life's dark way ; 

Blest glimpses of the rest beyond, 
The bright, eternal day, — 



S^. Ignatius. 285 

These are the priceless boons ye bring, 

The treasures ye bestow, 
O gentle- handmaids of the King, 

His ministers below ! 

Ah ! richest benisons shall fall, 

In softest manna-rain, 
On Merc3's heaven-guarded hall, 

On Mercy's subject-train ; 
*Neath '' Mater Misericordiae's " love, 

Your realm shall e'er be blest, 
And peace shall brood, as snowy dove. 

Within her quiet nest. • 



ST. IGNATIUS. 

[Written for his feast.] 

Sound the glad pseans o'er wave and land! 

Hail to the chieftain's name ! 
For valiant heart, and for dauntless hand, 

Honor and endless fame ! 
Honor to him who hath won the strife 

Over the hydra foe ! 
Honor to him who hath brought to life 

Hosts by the fiend laid low ! 
Honor to him who hath conquered self, 

Crushing it 'neath the cross. 
Scorning the world and its worthless pelf, 

And its fame's corroded dross ! 



286 Beside the Western Sea. 

Honor to him for the conquest made, 

When glory's songs were sweet — 
For the soldier's fame and the shining blade 

Offered at Mary's feet I 
Honor to him who was nobler far 

In his pilgrim robe of gra}^ 
Than when he shone as the courtly star, 

Or rode in the war array ! 
Honor to him for the conquest grand, 

With fiend of pride still waged, 
When he wrought, with willing and tender hand, 

Where the plague triumphant raged ! 
Honor to him for a valiant host — 

His glorious subject-train, 
Who bravely fight where the need is most. 

In the deadliest battle-rain ! 
Ay, honor to him for the gift he gave 

The glorious rock-built throne : 
For a knighthood grand, for an Order brave — 

Hath earth a braver known ? 
Then sound his triumph o'er wave and land ; 

Loyola's sons, arise, 
And waft your paeans, O dauntless band, 

E'en to the sunlit skies ! 
Legions, who bow at the throne of the King, 

Echo that leader's name ! 
Blessed Ignatius ! e'en heaven shall sing 

Thy fitting and endless fame. 



THE FRANCISCAN MARTYR.* 

Rejoice, rejoice, O hero-band, that bear the purpled 
palm ! 

Rejoice, O victor-throng, that wear the livery of 
the Lamb ! 

Another hand hath plucked the branch from tri- 
umph's mystic tree. 

Another royal robe is dyed in sufT' ring's crimson 
sea: 

Room 'mid your shining ranks for him, for him who 
well may claim 

The hero's halo-circled crown, the martyr's match- 
less name. 

* Father Francisco De Bassoste, one of the exiled Franciscans, who, 
banished from their convent and country by the tyrannical revolutionary 
government of Guatemala, sought refuge in our city, and received from 
the generous Fathers of St. Ignatius' College a cordial welcome and 
hospitable shelter after their weary wanderings. Tlieir tale of suffering 
and persecution is touching in the extreme, and bids one exclaim, with 
Madame Roland: "O Liberty! what crimes are committed in thy 
name ! " But the consecrated servants of Christ bore their frightful 
sufferings with angelic patience. For their cruel enemies they had only 
words of pardon and peace, and even their own scanty supply of food 
was gladly shared with the soldiers who were driving, like criminals, 
those meek and patient followers of Jesus. Father Francisco, aged and 
infirm, sank under the fearful weight of his sufferings, and, soon after 
his arrival here, his singularly holy and grace-fraught life was fitly 
terminated by a martyr's glorious and triumphant death. Ay, a 
martyr's death ! Not indeed by sword, or flame, or rending wheel, but 
none the less a death of martyrdom, for it was the result of frightful per- 
secution, gladly borne for the sake of His divine Master and Model. 



288 Beside the Western Sea. 

Within his peaceful cloister-shade, in contemplation 

sweet, 
He learned the lesson of the cross, e'en at his 

Master's feet. 
He clasped the nail-rent hand that led along the 

path of prayer. 
He trod where wounded feet had made the ways of 

duty fair ; 
He shared the Master's sacred thirst, as for His 

sake he wrought, 
He hailed the penitent's return, the straying sheep 

he sought. 
Within His pure anointed hand the Lamb was 

" lifted up," 
He broke the blessed Bread of Life, he poured the 

mystic cup ; 
He fed the famished multitude with manna from on 

high, 
He taught the living how to live, the dying how 

to die. 
The day of darkness came at last, the evil hour of 

night, 
And, 'neath the iron heel of wrong, low lay the 

victim Right ; 
And in the name of Liberty, that meek Franciscan 

band 
Were torn from out their cloister-homes, from out 

their native land. 
Through serried ranks of cruel foes, beneath the 

drenching rain, 
Across the rugged mountain-top, along the dreary 

plain, 



The Franciscan Martyr. 289 

The heroes of the cross went on, rejoicing- as they 

trod 
The '' Via Crucis," traced for them e'en by a 

martyr-God. 
And guiding angels led them on, along that thorny 

way, 
And Faith was still their star by night, their 

pillared flame by day, 
Till, where their own Saint Francis gave his sweet, 

seraphic name 
To statel}^ town and shining bay, his banished chil- 
dren came ; 
And there the aged pilgrim laid his weary burden 

down — 
Ay, there the martyr left his cross, and won his 

fadeless crown : 
The sacred hands are meekl}" clasped upon his 

pulseless breast, 
The sandaled feet are quiet n6w, in everlasting rest. 
O shining band of martyred saints, who bear the 

purpled palm. 
Who wear the royal robes of love, the livery of the 

Lamb, 
Give place, amid your shining ranks, to him who 

well may claim 
The martyr's starry diadem, the mart3^r's matchless 

name ! 
O favored city, that received the Soldiers of the 

Cross ! 
They bring a potent charm to purge thy gold from 

all its dross ; 



290 Beside the Western Sea. 

They bring thee white-winged benisons adown 

celestial stairs, 
For thou, in truth, dost entertain the '* angels un- 
awares : " 
Thy poor and humble guests shall prove a fairer 

boon to thee 
Than all the gathered wealth that freights thy 

richest argosy. 
And thou art now, O city bright ! a casket rich and 

rare, 
A reliquary that enshrines celestial treasures fair ; 
A martyr's sacred bones repose upon thy favored 

shore, 
A martyr's guardian glance shall rest upon thee 

evermore. 
O blessings on Loyola's sons ! within whose calm 

retreat 
The fainting exiles found repose and shelter safe 

and sweet ; 
Around whose altar lowly knelt the persecuted 

throng, 
While from their fervent lips arose the blest thanks- 
giving song, — 
The glad Te Deum, chanted here, because their 

Lord had found 
His servants worthy of the thorns that once His 

brow encrowned, — 
Ay, worthy of the mocking sneer, the insult and 

the blow, 
The cruel scourge, the path of pain, the likeness ol 

His woe. 



The OrphaiUs Home 291 

O blessings on Loyola's sons ! bright benisons to 

rest 
On those who see the Crucified in each angelic guest ; 
Who hail the meek Franciscan band as messengers 

. that bring 
Blest tidings from celestial shores, and tokens from 

the King; 
Who know how sweet to faithful ears the Master's 

voice will be : 
'' Whene'er 3^6 ministered to these^ ye ministered to 

me. 



THE ORPHAN'S HOME. 

[Suggested by a visit to the Boys' Orphan Asylum, at San Rafael, 

July, 1871.] 

O Eden-Nest among the hills, 

Where orphaned birdlings cling 
Beneath the shelt'ring tenderness 

Of love's protecting wing ! 
A pilgrim sought thy peaceful shade 

Amid the summer heat, 
And found, within thy leafy bowers, 

Refreshment cool and sweet ; 
And 'mid the pictures, pure and fair, 

Which memory's hand doth trace. 
That glimpse of paradise shall keep 

Its fond, unfading place. 



292 Beside the Western Sea- 

Again the sunset glory shines, 

With soft and tender gleam, 
On quiet vale and purple hill, 

And smoothly-gliding stream ; 
The poplar rears a stately brow, 

To meet its regal glow, 
And meekly, 'neath that veil of gold, 

The willow bends below ; 
And, grateful for the '' ring of flame," 

That crowns her blooming fair, 
The rose, from out her fragrant heart, 

Sheds incense on the air. 

•5f ■» * -)f -x- * 

The night is o'er, the day of rest 

Awakes serene and still. 
And sweetly sounds the summons blest 

From yonder sacred hill ; 
And, list ! a tread of countless feet 

Along the hallowed road 
That leadeth to the '' Mount of God," 

The Monarch's pure abode ! 
They enter now the sacred fane, 

And, 'mid that childish crowd. 
Each guileless heart is lifted high, 

Each knee in rev'rence bowed ; 
For there submissive heaven obeys 

Earth's softly-breath'd command, 
And Faith beholds her hidden God, 

Within His creature's hand. 
Ay, Love hath found His Bethlehem, 

And, from His earthly shrine, 



The Orphans Home, 293 

He sheds upon the orphan's path 

His benisons divine. 
And there a mother claimeth all 

Of mother-love bereft, 
And Joseph guards the fatherless. 

To his sweet guidance left. 
Fair Eden-nest among the hills, 

All blessings rest on thee, 
Thou pure domain of dove-eyed Peace, 

And white-robed Charity ! 
All blessings light the pastor's way 

Who guards the peaceful fold. 
And gathers here the lonely lambs 

From weary waste and wold ! 
Meek daughters of Saint Dominic, 

Yours be each priceless grace, — 
Sweet guardians of the *' little ones," 

Whose angels see His face ! 
O blest archangel, as of old. 

Guide safe the youthful feet, 
And whisper to the guileless heart 

Thy counsels pure and sweet! 
And, sheltered by thy snowy wings, 

The orphan band shall dwell 
Within their peaceful Eden-home, 

The realm of San Rafael. 



SONG OF THE NEW YEAR. 

Give me gay and gladsome greeting, O ye busy sons 

of earth ! 
In the gleeful gush of music sing the New Year's 

mystic birth ; 
With the deftly woven garland let the blooms of joy 

entwine, * 

And the heart's own sunbeams glisten in th6 smiles 

that fondly shine ; 
For a worthy guest ye welcome, e'en the herald of 

a King, 
And a boundless store of blessings to His favored 

realm I bring : 
Fadeless wreaths of hope eternal, founts of joy that 

cannot cease, 
Richest boons of royal bounty, sent ye by the Prince 

of Peace. 
He whose fiat woke from chaos glowing land and 

shining sea, 
Sowed the star-blooms in the heavens, and the 

" earth-stars " on the lea ; 
He who spake, and through the darkness of the 

long, mysterious night 
Shone the soft and quivering splendor of the pure, 

primeval light, — 
He hath crowned me with His glory. He hath sent 

me forth to bear 
Heaven's message, as I journey o'er the sunlight's 

golden stair; 



Song of the New Year. 295 

And adown that path of brightness angels follow 

where I lead, 
Shedding, from their shining pinions, manna for the 

pilgrim's need. 
When the midnight chime hath sounded o'er the 

sleeping vales of earth, 
Robed and wreath'd with light celestial, sprung the 

New Year into birth ; 
And the way is traced before me where my vanished 

sisters trod, 
O'er the mountain and the valley, o'er the streamlet 

and the sod ; 
Where the dreamy Syrian starlight waves its soft 

memento-crown 
O'er the meadows where the shepherds saw the 

glory floating down ; 
In the lonely olive garden, where Love drained 

His bitter cup. 
On the mount where '' all was finished," when His 

cross was lifted up, — 
Unto all the holy places where the Christian's vows 

are paid, 
And a sacred silence lingers, shall my pilgrimage 

be made ; 
And my golden days of sunshine and my wintry 

beams shall shine 
On the vast and. stately minster, and the lonely 

forest shrine. 
From their " rising to their setting " they shall 

shed a ceaseless flame 
On the '' clean oblation " offered in Jehovah's 

mighty name ; 



296 Beside the Western Sea. 

And my feet shall wander, noiseless, o'er the haunt: 

of worldly fame. 
Where the hero won his laurels, while he wrote in 

sand his name ; 
Where the ruins sit like Sphinxes, 'mid their deserts 

drear and wide, 
Mocking still, in stony scorning, all the fallen pomp 

of pride ; 
Through the streets of busy cities, throned beside 

the billow's crest, 
Where the boastful voice of progress ringeth 

through the boundless West : 
And my cheering rays shall glisten, and my gentle 

dews shall fall 
On the lofty and the lowly, bringing benisons to all. 
Lo ! the treasures ye may gather in the shining 

path I tread, 
If ye pause not b}" the wayside till the swift- winged 

year hath fled : 
Seeds of virtue, firmly planted, works of duty nobly 

wrought, 
Hours of blest, heroic toiling, days with holy 

fragrance fraught, — 
Worthy harvests for the reaper, fruits of rarest 

vines are these. 
Gather, then, O mortal workers ! linger not in 

slothful ease. 
Unto ye, unfalt'ring servants, lo! I bring a rich 

reward, 
Sent to cheer the patient toilers in the vine3'ard of 

the Lord : 



So7ig of the New Year, 297 

Quiet hearts and tranquil spirits, days of joy and 

nights of calm, 
Thoughts that swell, in birdhke carols, gratitude's 

unceasing psalm. 
And though clouds may hide the sunshine and the 

blessed stars from view, 
Turn ye still your heavenward glances, till the glory 

shineth through; 
Though ye bear, in sultry noontides, weary load of 

pain and loss, 
Ye but grasp a seeming burden, — 'tis the shadow of 

the cross. 
And remember, though I scatter tears with smiles, 

and grief with joy, 
Al/ 3.re Love's most precious jewels, all His gems 

without alloy. 
Give me, then, your gladsome greeting, O ye 

favored sons of earth ! 
In your carols, gay and gleeful, sing my bright and 

blessed birth ; 
Hail me, then, as guest most honored, with a wealth 

of festal cheer, 
Bring your stores of spirit-sunshine, tributes to the 

glad New-Year! 



OUR FATHER'S PORTRAIT * 

In the bright " empire of the sun" 

The gifted hand of genius wrought, 
Till many a glorious type was won 

Of scenes with matchless beauty fraught; 
Till many a fair, celestial dream 

In hues of mastic brio;-htness came 
To bid his favored canvas gleam, 

And crown him with its halo-flame. 
A foreign clime the artist sought. 

Far from his violated Rome ; 
And to our Western land he brought 

Rare treasures from his sunny home. 
Entranced, I saw his wondrous store, 

I gazed on works of varied grace. 
But each bright vision paled before 

The charm of one majestic face : 
Our Father's face, sublimely calm, 

The loftiness of strength divine, 
The meekness of the victim Lamb, 

United on that brow benign. 
The potent peace that seemed to shed 

The balm of benediction bland 
On the enraptured gazer's head, 

From tranquil eye and lifted hand ; 

*■ These lines were suggested by a portrait of Pius IX, the work of 
vSignor Tojetti, a distinguished Roman artist, now a resident of this city. 



San Francisco. 299 

The smile that lights, with wondrous glow, 

Each lineament, reflected fair, 
^ Of that loved face, enshrined below 

The nimbus-wreath of silver hair, — 
Well hath the hand of genius caught 

Each detail of that perfect whole. 
O semblance clear, divinely wrought, 

True mirror of a matchless soul! 
Thanks that our favored Western land 

This treasure henceforth shall enshrine ; 
For, bowed beneath that lifted hand, 

That tranquil eye and brow benign, 
The hearts that keep their loyal place. 

Submissive to the PontifF-King, 
Thus gazing on that sacred face, 

Around his throne shall closer cling. 



SAN FRANCISCO. 

O FAIR queen city of the wondrous West, 
The sunset glory is thy crown of state ! 

The sea thy slave, that, on his foaming crest. 
Leads the white ships within thy Golden Gate. 

Thy temples rise where shining-treasures dwell, 
Where throngs are bowed, and Mammon sits 
enshrined ; 

Where, dread Calypso! in thy golden spell 
Full many a brave, heroic heart is twined. 



300 Beside the Westei^n Sea. 

Ah, bright enchantress! cease thj woesome wiles, 
A halo-glory shines above thy crown ; 

With holiest light thy glowing sunset smiles, 
The hills are blest from whence thou lookest down, 

A glorious legac}', O queen ! is thine, 

Pure hands were laid, in blessing, on thy brow; 

Ah ! spurn thou not that heritage divine, 
And cast not off that consecration now. 

Seraphic Francis gave his holy name 

To thv proud hills and to thy shining bay, 

When, years agone. his faithful children came 
Within thv heart to light the sacred ray. 

How hast thou quenched that bright, benignant 
beam ! 
How hast thou dimmed the halo o'er thy crown. 
Till lurid glare and false, delusive gleam 

iNIock the pure smiles that shine from heaven 
adown ! 

Ah ! turn thee now from demon gods aside, 
And light again the purifying flame ; 

Put off the purple of thy pomp and pride, 

And robe thv form in o-arb of sfrief and shame. 

So shalt thou claim thy heritage of old. 

The nimbus- wreath thy drooping brow shall 
twine, 

And foul idolatries of guilt and gold 

No more pollute thy seraph-guarded shrine. 



THE BANQUET OF THE KING. 

[Suggested by witnessing the first communion of one hundred and 
ten children in the Sacred Heart Presentation Convent, on tlie feast of 
tlie Annunciation.] 

I KNELT within a "garnished room," 

Where shone the banquet fair, 
I saw the festal g-arlands bloom 

In fragrant beauty there. 

I heard the glad, triumphant strain 

In clearest chorus ring, 
Of hymns that hailed, in fond refrain, 

The coming of the King. 

He came adown His path of light, 

To keep His royal feast, — 
A Monarch, hid from human sight, 

The Victim and the Priest. 

In bridal robes and garlands fair 

The favored guests I saw, — 
Bright youthful forms assembled there, 

And bowed in love and awe. 

A happy multitude they knelt 

Beside that table blest : 
'Twas o'er ; in each pure heart He dwelt. 

Their King, their Food, their Guest. 



i0 2 Beside the Western Sea. 

How blest each soul wherein He found 
A '' swept and garnished shrine !" 

How sweet to know His peace profound. 
His happiness divine ! 

O radiant morn ! O blissful day. 
When heaven descends to earth ! 

And Love doth hide, in homes of clay, 
His gems of priceless worth. 

O guests of God ! keep watch and ware 

Around your treasure fair, 
And day and night His temples guard 

With fond, unceasing care. 

On altars decked with fragrant bloom 

Keep bright the vestal flame, 
And close from earth the " upper room, " 

Wherein the Master came ; 

That so, enrobed in bridal white, 
And crowned with festal flowers, 

Your souls may tread the aisles of light 
That lead through fadeless bowers. 

There, decked and wreath'd, the temple stands 

Of heaven's eternal Priest, — 
His banquet hall, where angel hands 

Shall spread your nuptial feast. 



THE ALTAR AND THE OFFERINGS* 

Earth rendered up her richest store, 

Her treasured marbles rare, 
And Art her magic chisel brought, 

To carve an altar fair. 
O precious gift I O wondrous work ! 

From out the shining stone 

* The subject of the above lines is the magnificent altar, lately erected 
in the chapel of the Sacred Heart Presentation Convent, Taylor Street. 
This rare and costly shrine, formed of the most richly variegated mar- 
bles, was tlie gift of the late Mr. J. C. Conroy, of the firm of Conroy & 
O'Connor, of tliis city. This altar was purchased in Rome, and was 
first opened on the occasion of the reception of four novices. Thus 
the splendid shrine before which were breathed the vows of the conse- 
crated ones, who have chosen the Immaculate Lamb as iheir King and 
Spouse, Avas truly rendered an "altar of privilege." 

But a sad offering was soon destined to be placed there. The prayers 
of the community v/ere requested for the generous donor, who had 
been attacked with sudden illness. Fervent petitions ascended in his 
behalf, and a general Communion was offered for him, but the pure 
spirit of the devout and resigned Christian had taken its flight, even while 
the sweet incense of prayer arose for him ; and thus, from the altar his 
zeal had erected, was formed a path over which the white-winged angels 
carried potent supplications for the spirit then passing to its eternal 
home, 1 lie wreath and cross of loveliest flowers, which had Iain on his 
coffin, were afterward placed on his beautiful altar ; a touching memento 
of the lamented one, whose singularly pure and pious life was richly 
adorned with rarest blossoms of grace. The ornaments of tlie above- 
described magnificent shrine, including the monstrance, chalice, paten, 
and cruets, are of solid gold and silver, of the most exquisite work- 
manship, and were the truly princely gift of D. J. Murphy, senior 
partner of the firm of Murphy, Grant & Co., of this city ( San 
Francisco). 



304 Beside the Western Sea. 

Was hewed Love's fitting sepulchre, 

Was reared His mystic throne : 
A bounteous hand that boon bestowed 

Within a cloister calm, 
Where dwell, in sacred solitude, 

The spouses of the Lamb. 
Earth sought again her hidden store, 

Far in the darksome mine, 
For gleaming gold and silver rare 

To deck that stately shrine ; 
Another gift-conferring hand 

These peerless boons bestowed. 
And bade their blended glory shine 

In Love's serene abode. 

First on that fair and fittinof shrine 

The ''clean oblation" shone ; 
First offered, lay the Victim-Lamb, 

On that pure altar-stone. 
A chosen band, in bridal robes, 

Here breath'd the sacred vow, 
And bowed before their King divine 

The meek, adoring brow. 
Here offered, lay the willing heart. 

The consecrated soul ; 
Here courage broke the gods of clay, 

And spurned their base control, — 
Sweet offering for that altar fair, 

Pure gems to deck the shrine 
Where gleams the jewel earth hath won 

From heaven's courts divine ! 



The Altar and the Offerings. 305 

While yet its Summer's early glow 

With promise sweet was rife, 
The bloom of glad completeness crowned 

A rare and glorious life : 
And so the swift-winged angel sped 

Adown his path of gloom, 
To treasure, in his Master's sight, 

That fair, perfected bloom. 
And he, whose generous bounty gave 

The rare and costly shrine. 
To guard the gracious holocaust, 

The sacrifice divine, — 
While yet his early Summer shone, 

With earthly promise rife. 
Gave sweetly to the Giver's hand 

His pure and perfect life. 
They twined the fair and fragrant crown, 

They wove the cross of flowers, 
And strewed upon his sacred bier 

The gems of earthly bowers ; 
They brought the deftly-woven cross, 

They brought the blooming crown, 
And, at the shrine his zeal bestowed, 

They laid the oflf'ring down. 
O touching tribute, fondly placed 

Before the captive King 
Enthroned upon that altar fair. 

His servant's offering ! 
There soon shall speed your fragile life, 

O frail and fleeting flowers ! 
But fadeless are the spirit-blooms 

Of glad, immortal bowers. 



306 Beside the Westeim Sea. 

Grow there, O pure and generous soul! 

Amid the joys Elysian, 
To bloom at Love's eternal shrine, 

To " gladden in Love's vision ; " 
For sweetly thou hast heavenward sped 

Upon the path of prayer, 
Traced by the consecrated band 

Beside thy altar fair. 
And still for thee the incense-breath 

Of supplication sweet 
Shall rise and wreathe, a fragrant cloud, 

Around the mercy-seat. 
No fairer monument to thee 

Can fond affection raise, 
No truer epitaph can trace 

Thy well-earned meed of praise, 
Than the pure altar thou hast reared 

Within the cloister calm. 
Where dwell the chosen brides of Christ, 

The spouses of the Lamb. 
There shall the Victim offered be. 

The '' clean oblation" shine, 
There shall the vestal band be brought 

To serve the King divine. 
And while the hosts of Israel strive 

With Canaan throng of sin. 
There lifted hands shall aid the right 

Its victory to win ; 
And justice, when the pure shall plead, 

Shall sheathe its vengeful sword, 
And stay the whelming tide of wrath, 

That chafeth to be poured. 



The Bishops of Germany. 307 

Thus shall the grace that saves a world 

Around that altar cling, 
And heaven uprear its earthly throne 

On the blest offering. 



THE BISHOPS OF GERMANY. 

Twine the fairest wreaths of glory, 

For each brow a fitting crown ; 
Waft their names, in song and story, 

To the latest age adown ; 
Give the meed of fame eternal 

To the soldiers of the right, 
For, with might of faith supernal, 

They have waged a noble fight. 
Unto Cassar they had given 

What to Cc^sar could belong ; 
But, when bonds divine were riven 

By the brutal force of wrong, 
When religfion's haupfhtv hater 

Claimed the tribute due to God, 
Then they braved the fierce dictator, 

And they scorned his tyrant rod. 
Hail, thou true Archbishop, chosen 

Prussia's victim first to be ! 
Grand, heroic Lord of Posen, 

Yield we homage first to thee ! 
Fondest tribute next we render 

Unto him whose righteous scorn 



3o8 Beside the Western Sea. 

Showed religion's brave defender 

In her Prince of Paderborn. 
Crown we, too, the faithful pastors 

Who would ne'er allegiance own 
To the sway of tyrant masters 

Over Mayence and Cologne. 
Well they bear the '' heat and burden," 

Well they brave the tempest-shock, 
Well they earned the worthy guerdon 

Sent from Peter's royal Rock. 
Even in his gloomy prison. 

In his dungeon dark and lone, 
One to proudest place hath risen. 

At the universal throne.* 
And from earth's remotest nations, 

Promptly haste the prelate throng, 
Oft'ring fond congratulations 

To the dauntless foes of wrong ; 
While around each faithful pastor 

Closer cling the subject-train, 
Though the rule of tyrant master 

Binds them in its galling chain. 
And the exiled ones that wander 

Proudly hail the prelate band. 
Guarding faith and freedom yonder, 

In their stricken fatherland. 

* While the venerable Archbishop of Posen was immured witliin the 
walls of a prison by the tyrannical and sacrilegious government, in 
its fiendish attempt to set up its idol of political piide, and to make the 
Church of God subservient to the State, the glorious Vicar of Christ, 
recognizing the worth of the faithful servant of trutli, and as a com- 
pensation for the indignities to which he was subjected, promoted him 
to the Cardinalate. 



THE ORPHAN'S PRAYER FOR BENE- 
FACTORS. 

O KINDLY hearts, that freely gave 

Your loan unto the Lord ! 
Th^ orphan's grateful prayer shall crave 

Your limitless reward ; 
The orphan's potent voice shall win 

Rich " measure, running o'er," 
For charity, that covers sin, 

And blesses evermore. 

O Father, to whose tender love 

The lonely lamb is left, 
Whose pity shields the unfledged dove, 

Of parent care bereft ! 
We call Thee by Thy dearest name, 

For we are truly Thine, — 
Ours is the orphan's sacred claim 

To father-love divine. 

And by that name we fondly plead, 

Bestow Thy blessings fair 
On those who heard our cry of grief. 

And raised the weight of care. 
O give our benefactors, Lord, 

Thy smile of love benign. 
Bid angel hands their names record, 

Their wreaths immortal twine ! 



lo Beside the Western Sea. 

Shed o'er their earthly days the balm 

Of sweet and soothing peace — 
Glad foretaste of the fadeless calm, 

The joy that cannot cease. 
O may each father's life be filled 

With blessings from above, 
Each mother's tender heart be thrilled 

With duteous children's love ! 

And in the home-nest, safe and warm, 

O keep each childish band, 
Still guarded by the father's arm, 

The mother's gentle hand ! 
O bless alike the stately dome, 

The lowly cottage roof; 
From ev'ry love-illumined home 

Keep cloud and care aloof! 

The hearts that gave a willing heed 

To want's distressful cry, 
And they who felt the bitter need. 

Meet in Thy realm on high. 
There, wandering feet shall cease to roam, 

And mercy find reward 
In Love's own fair, eternal home, — 

The kingdom of the Lord. 



THE NEW TRIUMPH OF ROME. 



The New Triumph of Rome 

A DRAMATIC POEM. 



Truth {solus). — A new adornment for the Spouse 
of Christ ! 
Another gem to deck her royal brow, 
And shed its hght athwart the gloom of time ! 
O matchless triumph ! — treasure proudly won 
Amid the darkness of these latter day, 
And brightly set within her starry crown, 
Safe from the fury of a fiend-led world, 
That sought to tear it from its sacred shrine, 
And cast it in the mire of contempt. 
O Lord of hosts ! Thy promise hath not failed — 
The gates of hell prevail not o'er Thy Church ; 
And I, Thy handmaid, I, Thy deathless Truth, 
Still teach, unharmed, the sacred lore of heaven. 

Enter Faith. 

Faith. — Immortal sister! lo ! I bow to thee. 
And share thy triumph ! Happy, happy age, 
That wins such glory for the brow of Truth, 
And proudly giveth to my guiding hand 
The staff of strength and signet-ring of love. 



3 1 4 Beside the Western Sea. 

Enter Rome. 
Rome [kneeling). — O guardians blest ! in lowly 
homage here 
Behold your vassal, heaven-favored Rome ! 
Truth [raising her). — Hail, holy Rome, bright 
capital of Truth ! 
City of God, and mistress of the world ' 
Ail titles fair that tell of triumph blest, 
Loved realm of Truth, are thine. 

Faith. — All hail, all hail, 

Daughter of Faith, arrayed in regal hues, 
With robe " washed \vhite " in Love's redeeming 

tide, 
And mantle purpled by thy martyrs' blood ! 
Lo, thine the right to deathless royalty ! 
Behold thy sceptre, Faith's all-conqu'ring cross. 
And lo ! thy throne, by Love's own hand bestowed. 
Rule here, imperial Rome. 

Truth. — Yet first receive 

Thy well-earned meed, sweet sign of queenly state, — 
The shining crown by Truth immortal twined. 

[ They crown her. 
Rise, child of Faith, and best-beloved of Truth, 
Rest on thy lofty, angel-guarded throne ! 

[Truth and Faith seat ROxME on tier throne. 
Truth [advancing). — O haste thee, Earth, thy 
liomage fond to pa}-. 
And liither bring thy ransomed daughters fair, 
That ye, with soulful gratitude, may bless 
The roval realm who gave her mighty name 
To love's unfading and unsullied spouse, 
The deathless Church of Christ ! 



The New Triumph of Rome. 315 

Enter Earth, with EUROPE, AsiA, Africa, a7id 

America. 

Earth. — O blessed Rome, 

Eternal queen ! behold thy subjects true ! 
Earth and her children at thy royal feet 
In sweet submission kneel. Lo ! Europe fair, 
And star-crowned Asia, hiding in her heart 
Love's mystic cradle and His rock-hewn tomb, 
With sun-bright Africa, His refuge safe ! 
And, youngest daughter of thy favored Earth, 
America, the consecrated child 
Of Mary blest, the stainless Queen of Heaven ! 

Europe. — O royal Rome ! beneath thy sceptre 
bright, 
The sacred cross, salvation's blessed sign, 
I haste to kneel. Its magic strength has won 
Freedom and light unfading for the race 
That dwells, blood-ransomed, in my spacious realm : 
Thus Europe hails thee. Empress of the World ! 

Asia. — With breath of incense shed from 
Sharon's rose, 
That 'blooms perennial on my Syrian plains; 
With shining skies that keep, reflected fair. 
The glory of those starry beams that led 
The Magi safely to their new-born King, — 
With ev'ry charm that sweetly lingers yet 
Around the land a Saviour's presence blessed, 
Lo! Asia hastes to own thy holy sway, 
O heaven-guarded Rome ! 

Africa. — Before thy cross 

Let dark-eyed Africa in homage bow. 



3i6 Beside the Western Sea. 

For o'er my dreary deserts it hath cast 
The soothing shadow of the Rock of Life ; 
And all the splendor of my tropic bloom 
Doth form an altar of its rainbow hues 
To shrine the emblem of all-conqu'ring Faith, 
The sacred sceptre of eternal Rome. 

America. — O sovereign fair, what gratitude is 



mme 



What boundless love to bless thy tender care, 
That sheds the splendor of the noonday beams 
Across the darkness of my forest gloom ! 
From Southern realm, the fair and fragrant home 
Of Lima's rose, " first flow'ret of the wild," 
To where the icy monarch of the North 
Sounds his defiant tocsin through the pines, 
Thy love hath sent the sweet celestial ray, 
The sun-bright beam of Faith. Hail, holy Rome, 
Columbia's beacon, day-star of the West ! 
O bright for ever be the crowning gem. 
The fair, new jewel, treasured for the Church 
By him who ruleth o'er the world-wide realm, 
Our holy Pontiff-King ! 

Rome {rising). — Thanks, loyal ones. 

My glad, new triumph thrills my grateful heart 
With ceaseless pride and joy. In those dark days 
Of pagan glory many a gleaming train 
Swept proudly onward through my crowded streets, 
And flashed the splendor of the sunlight back 
From victor lances and the golden spoil 
Of conquered cities. But for this fair age 
Was kept the splendor of a matchless scene, — 
The bright, triumphal pilgrimage of Faith : 



The New Triuuiph of Ro7ne. 3 1 7 

In shining robes the princes of the Church, 

X glorious multitude, a peerless host, 

From farthest realms, from stranger lands remote. 

Passed on in bright procession, summoned here 

By him whose throne is on the Living Rock, — 

By him who bears, on consecrated hand, 

The fisher's signet-ring. Majestic band. 

In solemn conclave gathered ! Round them throng 

Exulting spirits of the martyred saints, 

Enshrined within my blest basilicas ; 

And, as of old within that " upper room," 

Above the chosen, lo ! the flaming tongues 

Of inspiration, with the magic gifts 

Of a new Pentecost, again bestowed 

Celestial light on that vast multitude. 

And now 'tis meet that she whose potent voice 

Again doth bid eternal love convert 

The worthless fountains of an evil asre 

Into a boundless store, a living stream. 

The magic wine of life-bestowing grace, — 

'Tis just that she, the Mother of our Lord, 

The Virgin Queen, the light of Israel, 

The pure protectress of the world-wide Church, 

Should claim the ceaseless gratitude of Rome. 

This shining crown, a tribute sweet and fond, 

1 yield to her, the Queen of earth and heaven. 

Ay, this fair garland, twined by holy Truth, 

And the bright sceptre, love's eternal cross, 

Faith's precious gift, 1 offer at thy feet, 

O peerless Lady of the Sacred Heart! 

{^SJie places her crozvn and cross at the feet of the 
statue of our Blessed Lady. —Exeunt onines. 



ADDRESS FOR WASHINGTON'S BIRTH- 
DAY. 

[Written at the Convent of Notre Dame, Marysville, California.] 

Children of Freedom's land, rejoice ! rejoice ! 

Swell the glad shout in one united voice ! 

Let strife be hushed, and saddened hearts be gay — 

Lo ! 'tis the Pater Patrise's natal day ! 

Shall not his land her eager joy proclaim, 

To celebrate her noblest hero's name? 

Yes, fair Columbia ! hasten now to show 

To him the gratitude thou well may'st owe; 

Thy faithful love let pomp and pageant prove, 

Bid the bright throng, the proud procession, move. 

Up ! freeman, up ! unfurl the flag of stars ! 

That beacon cheered him through his night of wars. 

That cherished flag he risked his life to save. 

Unfurl it now ! O bid it brightly wave ! 

Round the proud arch the graceful garland twine, 

Spread the gay feast, and pour the ruby wine. 

Rouse thee, O poet! from thy fair}^ dream; 

For glowing verse behold the noblest theme ! 

And thou, whose burning eloquence can thrill 

The list'ning throngs, and sway them at thy will, — ■ 

O let not now that magic voice be still ! 

Strike the bold chord, O sweet-voiced sons of song ! 

'J'o him this day your noblest lays belong. 



Address for Washington's Birthday. -319 

Your grateful country bids the glorious strains 

Ring proudly forth o'er all her smiling plains, 

And echo far, o'er mountain, forest, sea, 

To bless his name whose valor made her free. 

Let party strife and civil discord cease — 

To nestle here, he brought the dove of peace: 

Cast her not forth o'er the ensanguined flood, 

To die in storms, to stain her wings with blood. 

O ne'er let furious hate and baneful pride 

Sever the Gordian knot his hands have tied ; 

Through storm and fear he wove the sacred chain — 

Ah, never break that holy bond in twain ! 

United, seek Mount Vernon's peaceful shade, 

At that sweet shrine let freemen's vows be paid. 

And there resolve that union's blessed band 

Shall firmly girdle Freedom's favored land : 

Preserving thus the peace he bravely won, 

Thus will ye honor best your Washington. 

We, too, will join the glad and grateful throng, 

Each youthful voice shall swell the noble song, 

Each willing hand shall add a shining leaf 

To the proud wreath that decorates our chief; 

i\nd from the shelter of our dear retreat 

Shall cast its tribute at the hero's feet. 

And, honoring thus fair Freedom's purest son, 

We thank the God who gave us Washington. 

But let us not, while lauding man, forget 

The bounteous hand which claims our deepest debt 

Of endless gratitude, and praise, and love. 

Then, "neath Thy heaven, that fondly smiles above, 

We thank Thee, Lord, who armed the patriot's hand, 

And poured thy blessings on our ransomed land : 



3 20 Beside the Western Sea. 

For, vainly strive the noble and the brave, 

If Thou, Omnipotent, will not to save. 

Hear, God and Father! hear our earnest prayer, 

Still let this land Thy richest blessings share ; 

Bid demon strife and dark dissensions flee. 

Let peace and love her guardian spirits be ; 

Let virtue be her children's highest aim, 

Their proudest boast, a pure, unsullied name : 

Thus, basking sweetly in Thy smile serene. 

Approving nations long shall own their queen. 

Thus, free from guile, her children well may pay 

A fitting homage to his natal day, 

For, keeping pure the legacy he won. 

They best fulfil the hopes of WASHINGTON. 



THE SPOUSAL SACRAMENT. 

[ Suggested by a most edifying and truly Christian marriage, which 
it was lately my privilege to witness in this city.] 

It was a sweet and solemn scene, 

That Christian spousal rite. 
Amid the blossoms' dewy sheen, 

The tapers' starry light ; 
Within the home of faith divine. 

The garnished banquet-room. 
Where Love lies in His earthly shrine, 

His angel-guarded tomb. 
Upon that " holy ground " they stood, 

The bridegroom and the bride. 



The Spousal Sacrament. 32L 

While, 'mid the sacred quietude, 

The heavens opened wide ; 
And from the shining heights above 

Soft fell the manna-dew, 
And sweetly sought the Sacred Dove 

Its Eden-home anew. 
In faithful hearts, by love entwined, 

In union pure and blest. 
Ah! safely there, where love is shrined, 

The dove of peace may rest. 
O Christian rite ! again I see 

Thy picture, pure and fair, 
In village home of Galilee : 

As now, the Lord was there ; 
As now, beside her Son divine, 

The Maiden- Mother blest ! 
Lo ! water turned to rarest wine. 

At her low-breath'd behest ! 
Behold ! with wine of graces rare, 

At her benign command, 
He blesses noiv a spousal fair, 

With glad, submissive hand. 
O nuptial rite ! O mystic chain ! 

Securely forged for ever, 
No force that bond may rend again. 

No art its links dissever. 
Ah, holy chain of plighted hearts ! 

Eternal band of love ! 
For e'en when death its union parts, 

'Twill re-unite above, 
If with that spousal link ye twine 

Faith's altar-garlands white, 



32 2 Beside the Western Sea. 

And in your guarded souls enshrine 
Remembrance, pure and bright, 

Of sacramental banquet fair, 
And of the Saviour guest. 

Who gave your feast unbounded share 
Of manna-graces blest. 



SAINT DOMINIC* 

Dost sing the fame of the ages past, 

And tell proud tales of the days of yore? 
Ah, pageant-glory, too bright to last ! 

Ah, hero-days, that return no more ! 
Dost vaunt the skill of the knightly lance, 

And paint the pride of the war array ? 
'Tis the boastful dream of a dead romance, 

'Tis a lance long sheathed in the rust's decay. 
Thy heroes fought for an earthly fame, 

For the lurid flash, and the lightning's glow ; 

* Among the glorious names that "shine as stars " in the clear firma- 
ment of the ages of faith, surely none gleams with a purer lustre than 
that of the saintly founder of the noble Order of the Friars Preachers. 
His life was an unbroken reflection of that of his Divine Master and 
Model ; his every thought, and word, and deed, the faithful echo of His 
of whom he had indeed learned to be " meek and humble of heart. " And 
the invincible strength and courage of the " Lion of the tribe of Judah" 
were his also. He was ever the fearless defender of truth, the undaunted 
foe of wrong and error; but his contests were the bloodless battles of 
the Prince of Peace, and his numberless victories, those over which 
"the angels rejoice," for they rescued countless sinners from the dark 
lominion of evil. And well has his noble Order continued the work 



Sai?it Dominic. 323 

And trie trumpet's vaunt of the victor's name 

■ Is lost 111 the wail of his battle woe. 
But I S1112: of a fame that shall ne'er decav, 

Though its dawn-light rose in the gray old past ; 
But its source was the light of an endless day, 

Through the " vast for ever " its beams shall last 
Dost thou show the castle of stately stone. 

The turrets proud, and the bannered height ? 
Dost thou boast of the conqueror's lofty throne, 

Of his boundless realm and his kino:lv mio^ht? 
But the ivy hangs on the ruined wall, 

And the moss is green on the mould'ring tower ; 
And years have fled since the kingdom's fall. 

And earth is thronged with the tombs of power. 
I paint the pride of a conflict blest — 

'Tis an olden strife, but it rageth yet ; 
I sing of a bright lance still in rest, 

But its edge was ne'er by a blood-drop wet. 
My stately tower was builded fair 

In the o:olden davs of '' the lons^ ao:o," 
But its banners wave in their beauty there, 

And its walls are Avhite in their first fresh glow. 

of their holy founder. Through long ages they have toiled, and their 
bond of brotherhood is asiirm now as in the faith-illumined days when 
its sacred links were first united. In every age the starry names of 
its heroes gem the azure sky of truth. Centuries ago, the angelic han 1 
of a Thomas Aquinas lighted the pure flame of Christian philosophy, 
that still sheds its guiding light and beacon ray of warning where 
the shoals and quicksands of error are hidden by the shining foam of 
sophistry. And, in our own days, the heaven-inspired eloquence of a 
Lacordaire, and a Father Burke, has seemed to countless listeners even 
as echoes of the voice of God, resounding from cloud-encircled Sinai 
Honor and eternal fame, then, to the glorious work of a glorious 
founder, the holv Order of Saint Dominic! 



324 Beside the Western Sea. 



3 



I sing of a kingdom grand and vast, 

It lies at the foot of a rock-built throne, — 
That realm first rose in the far-off past. 

And its strength is great as in ages flown. 
And I tell of a founder brave and strong, 

A hero-arm, and a lance well tried, — 
The fearless foe of the hydra wrong, 

The mighty slayer of serpent pride. 
His field of fame is the lowly cell. 

His coat of mail is a monk's robe white ; 
And the magic arms he hath used so well 

Are the word of truth, and the voice of right. 
An Order noble, and brave, and true, — 

This is the realm he hath founded fair ; 
The stately tower, so old, yet new, 

That gleams in its earliest freshness rare. 
The saving cross is its banner bright. 

Where the face of the conquering Victim pleads; 
And the hosts are linked with a chain of mio-ht — ■ 

'Tis the rosy wreath of the mystic beads. "^ 
O wondrous Dominic! leader strong! 

O king of a glorious subject-train ! 
The future's centuries, bright and long, 

Shall see no end of thine ancient reign ; 
Shall see no pause in thy olden strife. 

The hero-work by thy hand begun, 
Till thy hosts are crowned with eternal life. 

The guerdon fair of the deeds well done. 

* We are indebted to St. Dominic for tlie beautiful and efficacious 
devotion of the Holy Rosary. 



"THERE STOOD, BY THE CROSS OF 
JESUS, HIS MOTHER." 

With a weight of grief o'erladen, 

Weary, helpless, and forlorn, 
Stood a sweet and sinless maiden. 

Close beside the tree of scorn. 
Ay, while He, our God, our Brother, 

With His life redeemed our loss, 
Bravely stood His Maiden- Mother 

By His blood-empurpled cross. 

Silent, meek, and uncomplaining, 

By that cross whereon He hung, 
From all coward grief refraining. 

Till the end that Mother clung. 
Learn, O heart with grief o'erladen, 

Weakly fainting 'neath the rod ! 
Patience from that mourning maiden, 

From the Mother of your God ! 



THE ROCK OF GUADELOUPE. 

Once it cast a cold gray shadow 

O'er a desert bleak and bare, 
Nozv, a grand and stately temple 

Stands in sunlit beauty there. 
Now the fairest smiles of heaven 

Fling their glory o'er the gloom, 
Now a wealth of lily-graces 

Fills the waste with balm and bloom. 
Who hath wrought this transformation ? 

Who hath blessed the barren wild? 
Wondrous Rock of Guadeloupe, 

Hath a seraph on thee smiled ? 
Nay, a splendor far outshining 

Brightest beam of angel wing, 
O'er that brow of rugged bleakness 

Heaven's glory deigned to fling. 
'Twas the pure, celestial day-star 

That hath chased the desert's gloom : 
From the royal Rose of Sharon 

Came its store of balm. and bloom. 
As an Indian, simple-hearted, 

Passed at daybreak through the wild, 
Lo ! a wondrous apparition 

Blessed the forest's favored child ! 
On the rock of Guadeloupe 

Strangest vision met his view 



The Rock of Guadeloupe. 327 

Of a sweet and gracious lady, 

Clad in robe of azure hue ; 
And in tones of silver sweetness 

Thus that royal lady spake : 
" Quickly seek th}^ lord the bishop, 

And to him this message take : 
Straightway must he build a temple, 

In my honor, on this rock, 

And from thence, as patron tender, 

I will shield his land and flock." 
^ ^ •><- -jf -:•:- ^ 

Twice, in vain, her royal mandate 

To the prelate's door he brought : 
Sneering servitors received it 

As a dream of one distraught. 
'* Hence ! " at last they cried, " and come not 

With that wondrous tale of thine. 
Till thou bringest from the lady 

Of its truth the certain sii^n." 
Then upon the rock she showed him. 

Where no blossom ever grew. 
Verdant bushes, thickly laden 

With a bloom of richest hue ; 
And he gathered, at her bidding. 

All that bright, abundant store, 
Hid it in his coarse serape. 

And the bishop sought once more. 
Sneered the servitors no longer. 

For, upon his mantle shone 
Europe's white and crimson roses, 

To that Western land unknown ! 



328 Beside the Western Sea. 

And they twined, in dewy garland, 

Round a picture pure and fair, 
Round a radiant vision gleaming 

In celestial beauty there ! 
Ay, upon that coarse serape, 

Imaged in her royal state, 
Guadeloupe's gracious Lady, 

Heaven's Queen Immaculate ! 
So that lone rock of the desert 

Won its fair and stately shrine, 
Where the hidden bloom of heaven 

Sheddeth benisons divine. 
O thou, favored Guadeloupe ! 

Only wastes like thine have seen 
Bright and blessed apparition 

Of the pure celestial Queen. 
Lourdes, that dry and dreary desert, 

With a fount of grace was wet, 
And the glory of her presence 

Lit the gloom of La Salette ; 
But the princes clad in purple 

And the wise of earth she shuns, 
And she gives her royal message 

To the least and lowly ones. 
On our desert hearts, O Lady ! 

Shed thy manna-dews of grace, 
Build in each a worthy temple 

For thy sweet abiding-place ; 
Make us meek and poor in spirit. 

From the guile of worldlings free,- 
Worthy followers of Jesus, 
Worthy messengers for thee I 



THE POISONED CHALICE. 

[A Legend of Saint Louis Bertrand, Apostle of Panama.] 

I HEARD, from ancient pages, rife 

With holy legends rich and quaint, 
This story of a hero-life, 

That knew nor guile nor worldly taint. 
A hero ? Ay ! as brave and grand 

As e'er this world of combat trod ; 
A wonder in a w^ondrous band, 

A star amid the knights of God. 
And yet no clanging mail he wore. 

No haughty plume adorned his crest, 
That dauntless arm no buckler bore, 

No lance victorious laid in rest ; 
A woollen robe of purest white, 

A simple cross in steadfast hand, — 
This was his armor for the fight, 

His magic shield, his mighty brand. 
He conquered ? Ay ! but not by blood 

From gaping wound of prostrate foe ; 
No crimson sea, no fatal flood, 

Swept o'er his path in ceaseless flow. 
His strife was won by holy art. 

With potent prayer his triumph gained ; 
His battle-field the savage heart, 

In pagan bondage foully chained. 



330 Beside the Western Sea. 

He marched, undaunted, o'er the wild, 

Through tropic rain and torrid heat, 
To bless the forest's roving child 

With tidings of salvation sweet. 
Ah ! wildly mourned the demon foe 

His dark defeat, his ut.er loss. 
And planned to crush, with fiendish blow, 

The conqu'ring soldier of the cross. 
He filled with hate a human soul. 

He wove his wiles with malice fraught ; 
And by that tempter's dread control 

A matchless sacrilege was wrought: 
Within the sacramental cup 

Was poured, one morn, a poison-draught, 
That, e'en in Life, there offered up, 

Death agonizing might be quaffed. 
But when the saint's anointed hand 

Made there the consecrating sign. 
When, at His servant's blest command, 

To earth descended Love Divine, 
Afar the baffled demon fled ; 

For swiftly, from that mystic flood, 
A writhing serpent darkly sped, 

And left unharmed the Sacred Blood ! 
O blessed Louis I bid us learn 

Sweet lesson from thy legend fair. 
That from our life-cup we may spurn 

The venom-death and demon snare. 



THE TRUE TALES OF CHIVALRY.* 

In his ancestral castle, 

With stately turrets crowned, 
Where banners floated haughtily 

O'er walls that grimly frowned, 
Within a spacious chamber 

A wounded warrior lay, 
The bravest of the knights that led 

In Pampeluna's fray. 
Ill brooked that restless spirit 

Thus indolent to lie, 
And watch the weary hours pass 

In slow succession by ; 
While golden dreams of glory 

Trooped ever through his brain, 
And Fancy led new legions forth 

Upon her phantom plain. 
** Ho ! bring the volumes olden, 

The tales of weird romance, 
That boast of dauntless chivalrv, 

And skill of mao:ic lance." 

* St. Ignatius, then an officer in the Spanish army, being ill of a wound 
received at the siege of Pampeluna. requested his attendants to bring 
him some old romances of chivalry, in order to beguile the tedious hours 
of convalescence. None, however, could be found, and they brought 
him, instead, the Lives of the Saints. So struck was he with the holy 
heroism displayed by those true soldiers of Christ, that he determined 
to follow their glorious example. Accordingly, on his recovery, he 
abandoned the army, devoted himself to God, and became the illustrious 
Founder of the Society of Jesus. 



^^2 Beside the Western Sea. 



OO" 



And forth to do his biddins: 

The wilHng vassals leap, 
They search the grim old castle, 

From tower to donjon keep ; 
And yet (and much they marvel) 

They find no musty store 
Of tales of knightly prowess, 

The quaint chivalric lore. 
They bring, from dust and silence, 

One volume, worn and old. 
But 'tis no legend fanciful 

Of knighthood proud and bold ; 
No scene of joust and tourney, 

No pomp of pageants gay. 
No ghastly rhyme of goblin grim, 

No tale of greenwood fay. 
He turns the pages listlessly, 

The pages old and quaint. 
That tell the simple history 

Of many a hero-saint ; 
But, lo I his languid glances 

Are waxing eager now, 
A flush spreads o'er his pallid cheek, 

And mantles on his brow. 
Well may that volume olden 

Enkindle his proud eye : 
The noble deeds he readeth there 

Are registered on high. 
And well the truth-inspired scribe 

In simple language paints 
The prowess of those knights of God, 

His self-subduing saints. 



The True Tales of Chivalry. '^^'^2^ 

O'er that ancestral castle 

His banners flaunt no more, 
And rusted lies the gleaming lance 

Its master proudly bore ; 
He leads a nobler chivalry, 

A brighter, braver host. 
His name becomes the Christian's joy, 

The Church's proudest boast. 
On heaven's deathless tablet, 

Lo ! angel hands record 
Another soldier of the Lamb, 

A servant of their Lord ; 
And earth, from farthest regions, 

In tongues of every land. 
Still hails, with glad, united voice, 

Loyola's sacred band. 



HEAVEN'S HERO, ST. FRANCIS XAVIER. 

The world doth hail her heroes and her sages, 

The sons of might and fame ; 
1 heir names are wafted down the ringing ages. 

In jubilant acclaim. 
The world doth weave, in ceaseless song and story, 

The garlands of their praise : 
The victor's wreath, the laurel crown of glory, 

The poet's glist'ning bays. 
And who are they to whom the nations render 

Rich tributes of renown ? 
Whose brow is wreathed with coronal of splendor, 

Earth's fairest halo-crown ? 
Ambition's slave, his Gordian knots untying 

With reeking, ruthless sword, 
Red with the blood that feeds his thirst undying, 

Libations foully poured. 
He of the voice whose ringing intonations 

The spellbound spirits thrill. 
Yet serving oft, with servile adulations, 

Corruption's demon will. 
And he whose pen on fair soul-tablets traceth 

Its lines of lurid light, 
Whose serpent-trail from sullied shrines eraseth 

The golden laws of right. 
The bard, alas ! from seraph ranks descending 

To sin's discordant throng, 
His lays divine, his notes celestial blending 

With pleasure's syren song. 



St. Fra7icis Xavier. 335 

But what, O world, shall be his fitting- guerdon. 

Who, battling- for the right. 
Undaunted bore the conflict's " heat and burden," 

And won the lifelong fight? 
Whose magic tones could win a mighty nation 

To truth's serene control ? 
Whose accents woke the '* new song" of salvation 

In many a silent soul ? 
Whose hand unsealed the error-guarded portal, 

And traced, with golden pen. 
Love's precepts pure, in lines of light immortal, 

Upon the heart of men ? 
Behold, proud world ! the tributes thou dost offer 

For hero-toil like this : 
Thy children's scorn, the sneer of smiling scoffer. 

The sceptic's serpent hiss! 
Ah, senseless world ! he spurned thy homage fleet- 
incT 

Thy frail and fading crown, 
Thy empty praise, thy sycophantic greeting-, 

Thy pomp of vain renown. 
For fadeless fame, for recompense eternal, 

He, ceaseless toiler, wrought ; 
Through wild and waste safe led by strength super- 
nal, 

A worthy prize he sought. 
Ay, noble Xavier, true and faithful pastor, 

Thou led'st the flock forlorn 
Safe to the fold, back to its home and Master, 

From crag and path of thorn. 
Angelic hands inscribe thy blessed story 

On heaven's page of fame, 



33^ Beside the W^steim Sea. 

iVnd seraph voices chant thy deeds of glory 

In echoing acclaim ; 
And heaven's King doth give thy guerdon royal, 

Thy radiant reward : 
"Share now, true knight, for service tond and loyal, 

The glory of thy Lord." 



THE KNIGHT'S VIGIL.^ 

The abbey towers stood gray and tall 

Against the moonlit sky. 
And the soft light played o'er massy wall 

And sculptured turret high ; 
But the chapel arches rang no more 

To the sweetly-chanted hymn, 
For the vesper's holy rite was o'er. 

And the aisles were still and dim. 
The fadeless lamp of the sacred shrine 

Still shed its tender ray 

* When the hero of Pampeluna, Saint Ignatius of Loyola, resolved 
to consecrate himself to the service of the meek and lowly Jesus, he 
left his castle, and proceeded to the abbey of Montserrat. On his way 
he gave his rich apparel to a beggar, assuming the mendicant's humble 
garb, over which he wore a coarse gray tunic, with a cord about his 
waist. Arriving at the abbey, he passed a night in prayer before the holy 
shrine ; then leaving in the sacred temple his glorious sword, he went 
to the hospital of Manresa, and employed himself in attending to the 
sick and afflicted, adopting the title of the " Unknown Pilgrim." He 
afterward journeyed to Palestine, converting infidels and ministering 
to the distressed. Worthy preparation for the noble work for which 
he was destined — the founding of that glorious soldiery of Christ, the 
Jesuit Order ! 



The KiiigMs Vigil. 2)?)1 

Where the priceless gift of love divine 

In its hidden glory lay ; 
But the heavy portal op'ning swung 

To a stately form at last, 
And the echoing cloister softly rung 

Where a reverent footstep passed. 
'Twas the vigil of arms for a coming fight, 

For an hour of triumph nigh, 
For the dauntless sword of the belted knight, 

And his spirit brave and high ; 
But the warrior wore no coat of mail, 

No proudly waving crest, 
No flashing helm, no visor's veil. 

No shield for the knightly breast. 
A pilgrim's garb was the robe of gray, 

With its hempen girdle bound — 
Is this a theme for the minstrel's lay, 

Or the trumpet's vaunting sound ? 
But his step was firm, his bearing high, 

As he trod the lonely aisle, 
And the lamplight shone in a fearless eye. 

Though moist with tears the while. 
A bright blade flashed in his stalwart hand, 

A lance well-tried and true — 
No arm e'er poised a stronger brand, 

A goodlier falchion drew. 
He bowed him low at the altar fair, 

And kept his watch till day. 
And the sword of a hero glittered there, 

When the pilgrim went his way ; 
For he laid his lance on the sacred shrine. 

And he breathed a solemn vow : 



^^S Beside the Westeim Sea, 

*'To the holy cause of a King divine 

I give my service now." 
Where the fever burns in the throbbing vein, 

And the pestilence wastes at noon, 
The knight hath been, at the couch of pain, 

As heaven's brightest boon. 
Where the faithful feet of the pilgrim band 

Toil on in their weary way. 
At the shrines of faith's own Holy Land 

Their homage fond to pay ; 
Where the loathsome leper croucheth low 

At the sacred entrance-gate, 
A Christ-like love hath soothed his woe, 

And eased his anguish-weight. 
O dauntless knight of the saving cross ! 

O spirit of quenchless flame ! 
Thou hast changed the glitter of worldly dross 

For the gleam of eternal fame. 
Loyola, chief of a wondrous host. 

Till the journey of Time is done. 
The rock-built city of Truth shall boast 

The triumphs thy band hath won ; 
Shall tell thy vigil of arms, brave knight. 

Thy watch at the sacred shrine, 
Where strength was won for a worthy fight 

In the service of love divine. 



THE MARTYR'S TWOFOLD OFFICE OF 
ALTAR AND PRIEST. 

The noise of festal riot had died at last away, 
And silence held the city at early dawnlight gray, 
Save where the watchful warden still paced in 

armed state, 
With slow and ringing- footsteps, before the prison 

gate. 
Within that dismal dungeon no sleeper lay, I ween, 
The captives kept their vigil in wakefulness serene ; 
For death they calmly waited, yet not in still despair, 
For parted lips were smiling, and eyes were shining 

there. 
It was their festal morning, and lo! the board was 

spread 
With sacred wine of gladness and store of manna- 
bread. 
But where the garnished altar — the vested priest ? 

behold 
That fettered form extended upon the pavement 

cold! 
It is the priest, thus fastened by many a cruel band. 
One limb alone hath freedom — the pure, anointed 

hand. 
And, lo ! the wondrous altar! Upon that prostrate 

breast 
Is laid the mystic off ring, for "clean oblation" 

blest. 



340 Beside the Wester?i Sea. 

The captive's head is hfted, the consecrating word 
The martyr's Hp hath spoken, and list'ning love hath 

heard ; 
The hand yet left unshackled hath made the sacred 

sign, 
And, lo ! a God reposes upon that sacred shrine, 
Above that pure heart's throbbing, above that puls- 
ing stream, 
That soon, in blest libation, shall shed its crimson 

gleam. 
To share the sacred banquet the guests are gathered 

now. 
And round their living altar the glad adorers bow ; 
Again that hand is lifted, and to the kneeling 

throng 
It gives the Bread of Angels, the wine that maketh 

strong. 

That wondrous Mass is over: from ruder pagan 

sight 
They take the altar vessels, the cloth of snowy white. 
And when, at golden noonda;/, the fierce and 

fiendish cry 
*' Of Christians to the hons ! " reechoes wild and 

high,— 
And when, in dread arena, beneath the summer ray, 
The monarch of the desert is roaring for his prey. 
The nuptial guests are ready — exultant, calm, and 

strong, 
Go forth the willing legions, the manna-nourished 

throng. 



The Vist07i cf Saint Dominic. 341 

And he, the martyrs' chieftain, who walks with firm- 
est tread, 

Lay fettered, in the dawnlight, upon his dungeon 
bed; 

Ay, there, in twofold office, he shared the daybreak 
feast. 

And offered love's oblation, its altar and its priest ! 



THE VISION OF SAINT DOMINIC, 

Within their silent cloister 

The wearied brethren slept. 
Save one, that, in the midnight lone, 

His tireless vigil kept : 
It was their saintly founder, 

That, lowly kneeling there, 
Sent upward, from his heart's pure vase, 

The incense-breath of prayer, 
And as that snow-white garland 

Rose through the midnight lone, 
His spirit, on its fragrant cloud, 

Ascended to the throne,— 
The *' great white throne " eternal ! 

And ah ! what bliss to see 
His wreath of prayer entwining there 

Its shining canopy ! 
The royal-robed Redeemer 

Upon His servant smiled, 
The Maiden-Mother's outstretched hand 

Gave welcome to her child ; 



142 Beside the Western Sea. 

Before their Monarch bending, 

Close wreath'd around His throne, 
Bright saints of every Order blest 

He greeted, save his own. 
Then wept that saintly founder, 

In agony of woe. 
The Queen, with tender glance, beheld 

His sorrow's bitter flow ; 
With kindly hand she beckoned, 

Yet still he shrank in fear, 
Till, at his King's benignant sign, 

He drew, 3'et weeping, near. 
"Why flow thy tears of sorrow 

At joy's immortal throne ?" 
" Dear Lord, I see, before Thee bowed, 

Each Order save my own." 
Then to His royal Mother 

The King of glory turned : 
"Behold, O son, the blessed sight 

For which thy soul hath yearned : 
Sweet Mother, ope thy mantle." 

Ah ! blest, ecstatic view ! 
O'er heaven's realm extended wide 

Her cloak of azure hue ! 
How thrilled the saint with rapture 

Of joy, and love, and awe. 
For, gathered 'neath that w^ondrous robe, 

His white-robed sons he saw. 
Soon fled the glorious vision ; 

But ah ! what joy to tell 
The story to his children dear, 

When rung the matin bell. 



Saint Vincent Ferrer, 343 

And as the thronging brethren 

That tale of rapture heard, 
With glad, ecstatic gratitude 

Their very souls were stirred ; 
And fervent vows ascended 

Of loyalty and love 
To her whose boundless mantle guards 

Their white-robed band above. 



SAINT VINCENT FERRER. 

O SAINT of God, successor true 

Of blest apostle-band ! 
Bright bearer of the *' tidings glad " 

From land to eager land ! 
Ah, parents wise, that could discern, 

On noblest heights of fame, 
The tablet clear, where angel hands 

Inscribe each hero-name ! 
Ye gave your child without a sigh, 

An off'ring, glad and free, 
To serve where glory's worthy prize 

Is immortality. 
Sweet garden of Saint Dominic ! 

This lily-bloom of grace 
Soon found, within thy peaceful realm. 

His fair and fitting place : 
And so he came, a Samuel vowed 

To temple-service blest, 
With '' holiness unto the Lord " 

Borne ever on his breast. 



;44 Beside the Western Sea. 

And when to toil the Master called, 

Quick rung his glad reply — 
Where'er must turn his herald steps — 

" My King ! lo, here am I ! '* 
Then forth he went o'er land and sea, 

True soldier of the cross, 
Accounting, as the Master bade, 

All earthly things as dross. 
To hear his voice of strength divine 

The eager nations throng, 
And hail him truest friend of right. 

And sternest foe of wrong. 
Within his land of sunny Spain 

A wondrous work he wrought, 
Rich harvest, then, of ransomed souls, 

In stranger lands he sought : 
A peaceful Hannibal, he crossed 

The Switzer's Alpine height. 
And e'en on Albion's snowy cliffs 

Upreared his standard bright. 
O'er Cambrian mounts and Scottish hills 

The sacred toiler trod. 
And found, in Erin's favored isle, 

Full many a flow'r of God. 
Throughout the smiling land of France, 

All-conquering, journeyed he, 
And gathered rich, unfading store 

In blooming Italy. 
Proud unbelievers heard his voice : 

For e'en the Moorish king 
Within his fair Granada sought 

Christ's messenger to bring. 



Saint Agnes, 345 

And soon the haughty Moslem saw 

His Crescent's lurid glare 
Grow dim, when holy Vincent showed 

The Cross of Jesus there. 
But, saint of God ! my simple rhyme 

Essays in vain to trace 
The record of thy hero-life 

Of blest, supernal grace. 
Thy history is fitly told 

By seraph scribes alone, — 
Thy deeds they write, in living light, 

O'er Love's eternal throne. 



SAINT AGNES. 

VIRGIN AND MARTYR IN THE REIGN OF DIOCLESIAN. 

Child-martyr! noblest heroine 

That earth had ever known, 
With heaven's own majesty of mien, 

And firm, unfalt'ring tone ; 
Before the judge I see thee stand, 

Thy dauntless words I hear, 
I mark thy upward-pointing hand. 

Thine eye serene and clear. 

Clad in thy robe of spotless white, 
Heaven's glory on thy brow, 

Thou speakest of thy mystic plight, 
Thy solemn nuptial-vow ; 



34^ Beside the Western Sea. 

I hear thee name a kingly spouse, 
When they would bid thee wed : 

They marvel who hath claimed thy vows, 
And, then with lifted head, 

And radiant eyes upraised to heaven 

In ecstasy of love, 
Thou say'st thy 3^outhful heart is given 

To One who dwells above. 
They deem thee crazed : in dungeon dim 

Thy tender limbs are bound. 
Still thy lips to the Christian's hymn 

Make the dark vaults resound. 

They drag thee forth, the cruel sword 

Gleams o'er thy dauntless head — 
One stroke, and to its Spouse and Lord 

Thy stainless soul hath fled. 
Thus, watered by thy martyr-blood, 

The seed so lately sown. 
Laved by its pure and strength'ning flood, 

To fadeless bloom hath grown. 



FATHER JUNIPERO SERRA. 

Through the sounding ages wafted, 

Still the lofty pseans ring, 
Of the mighty chiefs who conquered 

For a transitory king- — 
For the glory of a nation, 

Darkly shrouded in decay, 
'Neath the ivy-mantled ruins 

Of its evanescent sway. 
Let us vaunt a nobler triumph, 

And, in sounding chorus, sing 
Of a chief who led the banners 

Of the everlasting King ; 
Who hath added new dominions 

And a countless subject-train 
To the crown that, through the ages, 

Still unconquered shall remain. 
Lo ! that valiant chieftain battled 

In the fair and fadeless West — • 
To our own bright El Dorado 

Came his legions, brave and blest ; 
Through the Golden Gate they entered 

Of our still and shining bay — 
E'en our royal-vested city 

Meekly owned their peaceful sway. 
Peaceful ! ay, no mail-clad legions 

Clanked along the sunset shore ; 



;48 Beside the Western Sea. 

On the sand-hills lay no death-heaps, 

Poured no tide of ghastly gore. 
Not one blood-drop of the vanquished 

Stained your wreaths af victor-palm, 
Brown-robed sons of sweet Saint Francis, 

Blessed legions of the Lamb ! 
Only from the fiendish armies 

Rose the wail of woe and loss, 
For your weapon, Avorld-subduing, 

Was the demon-dreaded cross. 
Hail to thee, O valiant leader! 

For that brave and dauntless band 
Guided was to deathless conquest 

By thy firm, anointed hand. 
Earthly glory shall be given 

To thy sweet and saintly name, 
And our golden land shall echo 

With thy psean-notes of fame. 
While the pilgrim, gazing fondly. 

Sees the sunlight's tender ray 
Light the cross of Padre Serra, 

On the shore of Monterey. 
And while, in our verdant valleys. 

Priceless vestige yet remains 
Of thy quaint adobe temples, 

Of thy ruined mission-fanes ; 
And within the courts of heaven 

Seraph hosts shall sing thy fame, 
Bidding endless ages echo 

With the glor}^ of thy name ; 
For, amid the Avhite-robed subjects, 

Bending at *'the great white throne," 



The Lily of Quito. 349 

Stand thy pure and priceless trophies, — 
Blessed conquests, all thine own. 

Ay, the forest's countless children, 
Freed from demon-thrall by thee, 

Weave thy crown of fadeless laurels, 
In their glad eternity. 



THE LILY OF QUITO. 

In a garden of the Southland 

Once a matchless lily grew, 
That, through all its earthly blooming, 

Kept its white, unsullied hue — 
Kept its first celestial fragrance, 

For its heart Avas e'er the shrine 
Of the brightest beams of heaven. 

And the balm of grace divine: 
Though it shunned the glare of noonday, 

Where the worldly flowers fade, 
Yet it could not hide the brightness 

That illumined e'en the shade. 
Purest eyes that gazed upon it 

Saw, serenely mirrored there, 
All the sweet and smiling graces 

That the blooms of heaven wear. 
Sinful eyes that gazed upon it 

Veiled their glances in affright, 
For the awful flame of Sinai 

Darted thence its angry light ; 



350 Beside the Weste7m Sea. 

But repentant eyes that sought it 

Through the tempest-rain of woe, 
Saw the blessed bow of promise 

Arched within its cheering glow. 
Stainless lily ! sister blossom 

Of the fair and fragrant rose, 
Whom the walls of favored Lima 

With a tender care enclose ! 
Brightest treasures of Columbia, 

That in mingled wreath entwine 
Round the royal Rose of Sharon, 

Round the lily-flow'r divine, — 
In that coronal of splendor 

Shine for e'er, in blended hue, 
Blessed lily-bloom of Quito, 

Saintly rose of fair Peru ! 



SAINT ALOYSIUS GONZAGA. 

O HEART detached from toys of earth ! 

O spirit-gaze uplifted high 

From dreams that fade and joys that fly. 
From rank, and pomp, and pride of birth! 

No worldly scene could win thy soul 
That mirrored heav'n serene and clear. 
No earthly echoes charm thine ear, 

Where seraph strains unceasing stole. 



The Christian Brothers. 351 

The flow'r supreme, the fairest star 

Of blest Loyola's knightly band ! 

From age to age, from land to land, 
Thy hero-deeds recounted are. 

Yet throngs saw not thy labors done, 
For, in the mystic life of grace, 
'Tis from the least and lowliest place 

The victor's loftiest meed is won. 

O may our lives thine image be ! 

May each young Christian heart possess 

Thy royal robes of lowliness, 
Thy lily crown of purity ! 



THE CHRISTIAN BROTHERS' GOLDEN 

MINE. 

Far down within the dismal mine, 

Where fragrant breezes never blow. 
Where genial sunbeams may not shine. 

Or crystal brooklets flow, 
There gleams the w^ondrous gold amid 

The shrouding granite's dark disguise. 
And there, in deep oblivion hid. 

The shining silver lies. 
Far, far below the verdant soil, 

So soft with dew, so bright with bloom. 
The miners dig, with weary toil. 

In dread, eternal gloom. 



352 Beside the Western Sea. 

What seek they ? — wealth that taketh wings, 

Delusive treasures, set in rust, 
The gods where worldly worship clings, 

The idols of its trust ; 
The mocking gleam that falsely leads 

Through stagnant marshes, foul with sin ; 
The demon bribe that darkest deeds 

And deadly wdles may win. 

Within a rich, exhaustless mine 

The Christian Brothers fondly toil : 
There blessed sunbeams ever shine. 

And bloom bedecks the soil ; 
There gleams the wealth that fleeteth not 

On restless pinion, swift as light ; 
There shine the gems no rust can blot. 

No blemish e'er may blight. 
Within the fruitful heart of youth 

These willing miners long have wrought, 
For there the stainless gold of truth 

Their patient toil hath sought. 
From foul alloy of guilt and vice 

Thev free the wealth of silver ore. 
They set the wondrous "pearl of price" 

Within that shining store. 
Ah, saintly toilers, not from earth 

Your labors claim a scant reward ! 
Look upward ! lo, your task is worth 

The guerdon of your Lord ! 
*' Come, blessed ones, and with each gem 

Your hands have freed from earthly leaven, 
In love's eternal diadem 

Be fitly shrined in heaven." 



THE BIRDS OF YO SEMITE * 

The seething torrent writhed and roared 

Adown its dizzy path, 
And o'er its rocky barriers poured 

The white foam of its wrath ; 
It burst at last its granite cage, 

It leaped from out its lair, 
And ceaseless thunders of its rage 

Crashed through the quiv'ring air. 
Yet firmly, at that torrent's foot, 

The forest monarchs grew ; 
Its foam- wreaths laved each sturd}^ root, 

And gemmed each leaf with dew. 
O fearless oaks ! the wrathful storms, 

The cataract's endless frowns, 
Could never bow your stalwart forms, 

Or dim your leafy crowns. 
And safe within your verdant shade. 

E'en o'er its angry crest, 
The merry minstrel of the glade 

Had built his humble nest ; 

* The above poem was suggested by a prose description of Yo 
Semite, in which the writer enthusiastically and charmingly expresses 
the emotions awakened in his heart by the majesty of the mighty 
cataract, and the exquisite melodies of the mocking-birds, warbling 
fearlessly, even amid the angry roar of the waters, their songs of 
gratitude to Him whom the Germans, with sweet, childlike simplicity, 
style ♦' the dear God." 



354 Beside the Western Sea. 

Ay, there the gleeful warbler sang 

His joyous matin lay, 
And there his vesper carol rang 

Sweet farewells to the day. 
A pilgrim, rapt in rev'rent awe, 

Stood on that giddy verge, 
And, spellbound by its tumults, saw 

The torrent seethe and surge ; 
And, as its ceaseless thunder-tone 

Fell on his shrinking ear. 
His spirit quailed : '' A Monarch's throne 

And awful voice are here. 
Thou King of kings ! Thou God supreme ! 

How weak the tones of praise ! 
How rash the trusting glances seem 

That mortals dare to raise ! 
For here, upon the torrent's path, 

Thy boundless power I see. 
And own, amid its mighty wrath, 

Thy awful majesty." 
But whence that burst of joyous song, 

Those carols sweet and clear ? 
O wildwood birds! O minstrel throng! 

Your voices knew not fear. 
High o'er the angry storm that smote 

The rock with ceaseless blows. 
The echoes of each gleeful note 

In purest cadence rose : 
*' Praise to the dear all-Father's name ! 

E'en to Thy throne above 
We waft the meed Thy mercies claim, 

O God of light and love ! 



The Birds of Yo Semite, 355 

List to the birdling-s' simple son^, 

Clear rins^inof throusfh the morn ! 
Though round Thee chant the seraph throng. 

Our lays Thou wilt not scorn. 
The torrent's deep, resounding tone 

Proclaims Thy boundless might; 
It bids a world its Sov'reign own, 

And tremble in Thy sight. 
But our unceasing carols suit 

Our fonder, sweeter theme — 
We sing Th}^ crowning attribute, 

Thy mercy's fairest gleam. 
O shrinking human heart ! be calm ! 

Look upward from the dust, 
And wake a new, unfalt'ring psalm 

Of perfect love and trust! " 
So, on the pilgrim's dreaming heart 

Those sweet bird-voices thrilled. 
Their music's soft and soothins: art 

Its terror-tumult stilled. 
Dear messengers ! till life shall cease. 

My grateful heart shall bless 
Your melodies of love and peace, 

Your tones of tenderness. 
O maddened waters ! wildly dash 

Adown your rocky path, 
And, in resounding thunder-crash, 

Peal out your mighty wrath : 
Type of the terrible ! sublime 

And awful voice of power ! 
Yet blending sweetly with the chime 

Of birds in leafy bower. 



35^ Beside the Western Sea. 

O cataract roar and forest lay ! 

To heedful heart and ear 
Your blended tones have brought to-day 

A twofold lesson dear. 
Then bow, my soul, in reverent awe 

Creation's God before; 
Submissive own His kingly law, 

His Majesty adore. 
Yet cast thy trusting glance above, 

Where Mercy's smile is bland, 
And rest, in confidence and love. 

Beneath a Father's hand. 
And while affliction's torrents pour 

In madness o'er thy way, 
And claim, with wild, discordant roar, 

An unimpeded sway, 
Still keep love's birdlike notes within 

A consecrated bower ; 
And high above the tempest's din 

And fierce, despotic power, 
Shall ring their carols sweet and calm, 

Their chorus glad and clear, 
That gratitude's unceasing psalm 

May reach the Father's ear. 



THE VISION OF CONSTANTINE. 

Forth came the countless legions, 

By vile Maxentius led, 
With shining spears, and bucklers bright. 

And royal ensigns spread ; 
There gleamed the conqu'ring eagles 

Beneath the noontide ray, 
And there the sheen of armor flashed, 

Proud challenge to the day. 
High dreams of matchless triumph 

Smiled on the tyrant's sight : 
No marvel — for a world was won 

By Rome's resistless might. 
Forth marched, to meet her legions, 

A band as brave and true. 
But match with countless forest boughs 

A sapling's branches few. 
Then may ye dream of conquest, — 

Ay, then securely hope 
To see the band of Constantine 

With serried legions cope. 
E'en while their noble leader 

His troops unfalt'ring led, 
Within his dauntless heart awoke 

This agony of dread. 
He knew how vain the struggle 

Against such fearful odds, 



35B Beside the Western Sea. 

Yet scorned to seek the augurs false, 

Or bend to demon gods. 
The one Almighty Ruler, 

To whom the Christians bowed, 
, Who led His chosen o'er the sea, 

\ And guided from the cloud, — 

To Him that leader lifted 

His eager anguish-cry : 
"Help! Christian God of armies! 

Send vict'ry from on high I 
Upon the shining heavens 

He turned his pleading eyes, 
And, lo ! the sign of hope and strength, 

Emblazoned in the skies ! 
The standard of the Christians, 

The cross whereon was won 
The man-God's matchless victory, 

Shone fair above the sun : 
*' By this sign shall ye conquer," 

O words of magic might, 
Upon that sacred emblem traced 

In lines of living light! 

^ -H- -K- 45- % * 

The Lord of Hosts hath triumphed, 

The battle-toil is o'er, 
\ And potent was the standard pure 

That valiant army bore. 
O'er Rome's resistless legions 

Proud victory was won, 
The sacred sign of Constantino 

A wondrous work hath done : 



The Vision of Constantine. 359 

The gleam of golden eagles 

Grew dim as worthless dross ; 
An army, countless as the leaves, 

Was conquered by the cross. 
O Christian heart, that wagest 

A wild, unequal strife 
With hosts that crowd, in fierce array, 

The battle-field of Hfe ! 
Faint not amid thy peril. 

But turn thy glance above. 
And thou shalt see, beyond the sun, 

The sign of hope and love : 
** By this sign thou shalt conquer I " 

The words of strength shall win 
Proud triumph o'er the countless hosts, 

The myriad throng of sin ; 
The gleam of pride's fierce eagles 

Shall pale as worthless dross, 
And demon legions fly before 

The standard of the cross. 



THE LORD'S ANOINTED. 

[Suggested by witnessing an Ordination in the Church of St. Ignatius. ] 

Nay, tell me not of tinsel pomp, 

Of glory false and frail, 
Of pageants bought with heroes' blood, 

Death-moan, and widows' wail ; 
Of kingly crowns, whose flashing gems 

The thorny anguish hide. 
Of regal robes, by tyrants worn. 

In palace halls of pride : 
For I have known a fairer scene, 

A triumph that shall last 
When worldly honors withered fly, 

Like leaves before the blast. 
Beside the hidden Monarch's shrine. 

Where bowed the pleading throng. 
Where tapers glowed, and flowers bloomed, 

And pealed the holy song ; 
Where incense bore, on wings of balm, 

Contrition's fervent sigh. 
And softly came, like evening dew, 

The manna from on high, — 
At blest Redemption's nuptial feast. 

In Faith's bedecked abode. 
There was the fadeless triumph won, 

The title fair bestowed ; 
There were the mystic robes put on. 

There breath'd the solemn vow, 



The Lord's Anointed. 361 

And there the oil of strength was poured 

Upon a warrior's brow. 
A warrior! ay, yet not of those 

Who wade the crimson sea, 
And, ruthless, bid the captive foe 

Their car of triumph be. 
To battle 'gainst the tempter's wiles, 

To crush the mighty wrong. 
To cope with evils, fierce and dread, 

The demon's hydra throng; 
To heal the bruised and broken reed, 

To soothe the stricken heart, 
To bid the leprous soul be clean. 

The freed in peace depart ; 
To carr}^ through the desert wild 

Salvation's tidings blest, 
To bring the wand'rer home again, 

To bid the pilgrim rest ; 
To cheer the lone, plague-stricken bed, 

Unshrinking, to the last, 
To nerve the faint and parting soul. 

Until the strife be past ; 
To preach, to teach, to " bind and loose,** 

To fast, to watch, to pray. 
To tread, with firm, unwearied feet, 

Privation's rugged way ; 
To spurn the cup of w^orldly joy. 

Earth's fondest ties to break, 
To cast aside her golden gifts, 

Her paths of peace forsake : 
To toil in drear and distant lands. 

The noontide beats to bear, 



362 Beside the Western Sea. 

That bloom may bless the wilderness, 

And vineyards ripen there, — 
This is his task, for this he counts 

Earth's fairest boons as dross, — 
Ay, this the field where nobly strives 

The soldier of the cross. 
Yet O, what privilege is his ! 

At altars fair he stands. 
And holds his hidden God and King 

In consecrated hands ; 
His voice the mystic summons speaks. 

When heaven descends to earth : 
And Pyx and chalice cradles are 

For Love's new, wondrous birth. 
The pure baptismal tide that laves 

The smiling infant's brow, 
The sweet absolving sentence breath'd 

When contrite sinners bow ; 
The strength the dying pilgrim wins 

By blest, anointing rite, 
Fresh girding for the journey dread. 

The last mysterious flight, — 
These are the treasures he bestows, 

The glad commissions given, 
To him whose sacred footsteps bear 

The messages of heaven. 
Hath earth a dignity like this ? 

Can proudest monarchs claim 
His priceless privilege who wears 

The glorious priestly name? 
The harvest rich, the garnered sheaves, 

The overflowing net, 



SobieskPs Song of Triumph. 363 



The flock secure within the fold, 

The jewels safely set, — 
These are the fruits that bless his toil. 

And, lo ! his fair reward : 
*' Well done, thou good and faithful one ! 

True servant of thy Lord ! " 
An honored guest, for evermore 

He shares the Bridegroom's feast, 
And seraphs hail, with joyous song. 

Their Lord's anointed priest. 



SOBIESKFS SONG OF TRIUMPH. 

HOSANNA to the Crucified, who bade the Crescent's 
dross 

Grow dim before the matchless light of His trium- 
phant Cross ! 

And honor to Our Lady blest, whose potent aid 
hath won 

Proud conquest for their arms who bore the stand- 
ard of her Son ! 

Hail, Lily-bloom of Israel! Hail, Maiden, full of 
grace ! 

The might of Moslem hosts hath quailed before thy 
royal face ; 

Thine image decked the banner fair that flung its 
folds on high. 

Thy badge was on each warrior's breast, thy name 
his battle-cry. 



364 Beside the Western Sea. 

The Paynim hosts came proudly on, a dread, exult- 
ant throng. 

Like to the venomed blasts that swept the desert 
wastes along ; 

Fierce flashed the cruel scymitar within each ruth- 
less hand, 

And wild the shout, '*ln Allah's name we claim the 
Christian land." 

And forth, to meet that mighty host, a little army 
came, 

Armed with the sacred sword of truth, the Chris- 
tian's cherished name ; 

Strong with the mystic wine of love, the Bread of 
endless Life, 

As from the holy feast they rose, fresh girded for 
the strife, 

" For God, Our Lady, and the Cross ! " outrang 
the dauntless cry ; 

Each heart beat proudly at the sound, each glance 
was lifted high ; 

While on their banner, brightly stamped, a mother's 
image shone. 

And, far above, a mother watched, and pleaded for 
her own. 

O potent pleading! faithful watch! all-hail, our 
peerless Queen ! 

For ne'er on earthly battle-field such victory was 
seen. 

As onward, in the fearful fight, the Christian soldiers 
sped, 

Like leaves before the wintry blast, the Paynim 
legions fled, — 



Sobieski's So7ig of Triiunph. 365 

Ay, fled before the feeble few, the scorned, the 

pigmy band, 
The handful they had sworn to crush with one 

Damascus brand ! 
Their haughty crescent sunk in gloom before Our 

Lady's glance — 
The scymitar hath failed to match the Christian's 

sacred lance. 
Hosannas to the Crucified, O rescued nations, sing I 
Let vaulted aisles and cloisters fair with glad Te 

Deiivts ring ! 
Let light and bloom, and jewels rare, bedeck the 

holy shrine,- 
Where lies our sweet thank-offering, the Victim- 
Lamb divine ! 
From demon hand of sacrilege is saved the Christian 

fane, 
The peaceful homes of sanctity know not the lawless 

train ; 
The priceless gems of art and love will light no 

Moslem fire, 
No Christian cities whet the sword of Moslem hate 

and ire. 
Sing, then, your glad and grateful joy, ye favored 

sons of art ! 
Breathe now, O child of eloquence! the rapture of 

thy heart ; 
And, pale-browed scholar, let thy fair, illumined 

pages tell 
How Sobieski's Christian band hath checked the 

infidel. 



':66 Beside the Western Sea. 



o 



O holv city of our love! O heaven-guarded Rome ! 
Let ceaseless paeans grandly ring within thy mighty 

dome : 
The feet of ruthless Saracens pass not within thy 

gate, 
Thy martjTs' dust is unprofaned, thy shrines in- 
violate. 
Hosanna to the Christians' God, who armed our 

swords with mio-ht ! 
And praise to her, whose potent aid hath blessed the 

Christian knight ! 
Mater Immaculata, hail I the Crescent's sheen is 

dross, 
Thy smile hath dimmed its haughty ray, and crushed 

it 'neath the Cross ! 



CALIFORNIA'S RELICS: THE MISSIONS. 

Full many a theme of twilight song and story 

Yet lives in elder lands, 
The stern-eyed Sphinx uplifts her forehead hoary 

i\bove the desert sands ; 

And Greece still holds, with firm, defiant power, 

From Lethe's dread abyss, 
The ruined walls that yet so richly dower 

Her proud Acropolis. 

The castled height, of '' legends quaint and olden " 
The fierce and fittino^ shrine, 



The Missions. 367 

Still darkly frowns within the sunset golden 
That lights the mystic Rhine. 

But these are records of a clouded glory, 

When wrong o'ermastered right ; 
One burden dread fills all their sounding story, — 

The ruthless rule of might. 

Ah ! fairer far the relics thou enshrinest, 

Bright sovereign of the West ! 
O'er sacred walls a fadeless wreath thou twinest. 

The amaranth of the blest. 

Nor Egypt's fanes, nor stately domes enclosing 

The sculptured gods of Greece, 
Can match the homes of love divine, reposing 

Beneath the wings of peace. 

No feudal halls, no banner-flaunting tower. 

Frowned grimly o'er the land ; 
Nor vassal-trains, nor mail-clad hands of power. 

Enforced a stern command. 

Humbly they stood, yet crowned with sunny 
splendor. 

Those wondrous walls of clay ; 
A power benign, an influence sweet and tender, 

Held there its potent sway. 

The gray-robed monk, the messenger of heaven, 

There ruled his willing band : 
No blood-spot clung, nor taint of worldly leaven. 

To that anointed hand, — 



368 Beside the Western Sea. 

That steadfast hand, to truth securely leading: 

The forest's wayward child, — 
That tender hand, that tamed, with silent pleading, 

The savage nature wild. 

There docile hearts bowed low in adoration, 

When, 'neath that humble dome, 
In sacred rite, in endless '' clean oblation," 

Love sought His earthly home. 

And knees were bent, when rang the angel-story 

From out the mission-tower, 
While gleamed its cross, with halo-crown of glory 

Twined by the sunset hour. 

And so when crime, with trail of serpent, blighted 

The sheen of stately halls, 
The tender beam of Eden-blessings lighted 

Those rude adobe walls. 

O golden land I thy richest, rarest treasure 

Dwells not in darksome mines ; 
Still prouder wealth thou hast in countless measure 

Thy holy mission-shrines. 

Let Eastern lands yet vaunt, in song and story, 

Their ivy-mantled halls ; 
A halo-flame, a nimbus-wreath of glory, 

Encrowns thy sacred walls. 



THE MOST HOLY ROSARY. 

O ROYAL road, that heavenward leads 
Along the chain of mystic beads ! 
O lily-chaplet, sweetly hid 
The blood-empurpled thorns amid! 

rose-wreath, twining, pure and fair, 
Around the holy heights of prayer, 
Where love's bright cross begins and ends 
The pilgrim-path that faith ascends ! 
Blest garland ! on each shining bead 

A rare and wondrous tale I read : 
The life that rose in Bethlehem 
Is traced on evei y sacred gem ; 

1 see her sweet and sinless face, 
Hailed by archangel, " full of grace ! " 
How gently falls each answ'ring word, 
" Behold the handmaid of the Lord ! " 
I catch the gleam of angel wings ; 
Again their Christmas carol rings, 

As on that eve when love began 
The history of the God made man. 
I follow all that childhood fair, 
O'erwatched by Mary's tender care; 
I feel the balm of incense-breath 
His fair youth sheds o'er Nazareth, 
And 'mid the lily's gleam I read 
A joyous tale on every bead. 



370 Beside the Western Sea. 

But shadows fall on balm and bloom 

Amid the olive garden's gloom, 

When o'er the Victim's spirit flow 

The surging waves of human woe, 

And on His sinless heart is hurled 

The anguish of a guilty world. 

The night of darkness shades the morn, 

The Monarch wears His crown of thorn. 

And mortals throng, with shout and sneer. 

His royal pathway, strange and drear. 

Nailed to His throne, the Mart3^r-King 

Completes His reign of suffering ; 

A God redeems His creatures' loss 

On the dread altar of the cross ! 

So, 'mid the blood-dyed thorns, I read 

K doleful tale on every bead. 

But lo ! upon that weary way 

Immortal Love's triumphal ray ! 

The tomb is rent, the night is gone, 

And brightly breaks the Easter-dawn ! 

I see the risen Saviour stand 

Amid His chosen awe-struck band ; 

I see Him fondly linger where 

The flock still claims the Shepherd's care, 

Until His promise sweet is given 

Of comfort blest, and strength from heaven. 

Then, from that heaven's opened doors, 

A matchless flood of glory pours. 

Love's prize is won ! Love's labor ends! 

The Victor to His throne ascends ! 



The Most Holy Rosary, 371 

Yet Truth's assurance is not lost, 

For, lo ! the boons of Pentecost ! 

With tongues of flame and unction sweet, 

Behold the promised Paraclete ! 

Bright visions bless inspired sight. 

Unsealed is wisdom's fount of light, 

For, heaven's own messengers must be 

The fishermen of Galilee. 

The Maiden-Mother, full of grace, 

Again I greet her queenly face, — 

She o'er a Saviour's childhood hung, 

And to His cross unfalt'ring clung ; 

She in each sorrow bore her part : 

The sword of grief had pierced her heart. 

Now, in that Saviour's triumph fair, 

The Mother claims her royal share ; 

New gladness thrills the angel throng, 

New rapture swells the seraph's song. 

The pain is past ! the bliss is won ! 

The sinless Mother greets her Son! 

And lo ! the handmaid of the Lord * 

Receives her radiant reward, 

And on her bright, unsullied brow 

The peerless erown is gleaming now: 

And so, 'mid regal gems, I read 

A glorious tale on every bead. 

O wondrous privilege to see 

The visions of the Rosary ! 

To hear the mystic voice that reads 

Redemption's story from the beads ; 

To linger, rapt in holy dream. 

Where Israel's hly sheds its gleam ; 



'^''J2 Beside the Western Sea. 

To tread the peaceful path of prayer, 
To mount o'er heaven's shining stair, 
To clasp the bright, rose-jewelled band 
That leadeth to the better land ! 



THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS 

Weary with the world's unrest, 

Blinded by its glare, 
Gone devotion's holy zest, 

Gone its soothing prayer. 

So I passed, with footsteps slow, 

Through the sunny street, 
Shrinkino^ from the summer-g^low, 

Droopmg in its heat. 

Bitter wailing of despair 

Rose within ni}^ heart : 
*' Why," it moaned, " this cark and care? 

Why this anguish-smart ? 

" Why these weary burdens borne 

Throucrh life's torrid dav ? 
Why the pangs that make us mourn 

O'er its desert way ? 

"What can bid the torture cease.? 

What can heal its pain ? 
Where the spell to bring ye peace, 

World-sick soul ar.d brain? 



The Shadow of the Cross. ^ill 

"What, O Lite! canst thou bestow 

For thy grief and loss ? 
Shadowed on the path below 

Saw I, then, a cross." 

And a " still, small voice" arose 

Silenced heart within : 
'* Cease thy plaint of earthly woes, 

Cease thy thought of sin. 

** Said He not, ' Take up the cross, 

Ye who follow Me :' 
So the gain for every loss 

Limitless shall be. 

*'Ask'st thou whence thy sorrow's cure? 

Where the healing blest? 
Lo ! the promise, sweet and sure, 

' I will give thee rest.' " 

Then I raised my weary eyes 

Where the saving sign, 
Pointing upward to the skies, 

Crowned the sacred shrine. 

As a rock in desert land 

Cooling shadow throws. 
Bringing to the pilgrim band 

Shelter and repose ; 

So that shadow o'er my path 

Wrought its soothing spell, 
When, 'mid noontide's fiercest wrath, 

Tender! V it fell. 



374 Beside the Western Sea. 

And I went, with humble tread, 
From earth's bUnding glare, 

Where the lighted altar shed 
Radiance soft and fair ; 

There my fainting spirit found 

Shelter and repose, 
Resting, on that holy ground, 

From her weary woes. 

And remembering One forlorn, 
That she might be free, 

Toiling, crowned with cruel thorn, 
On to Calvary. 

Ceased she then her sad complaint- 
Seeing woe and loss 

But the shadowed image faint 
Of her Master's Cross. 



THE PASSION FLOWER. 

I GAZE with trembling awe and fear 

Upon thy purple glory, 
Thou strange, mysterious souvenir 

Of earth's most wondrous story ! 

Weep, human eyes! ay, weep to read, 

Enshrined in nature's jewel. 
Dread record of a direful deed 

Of sacrilege most cruel. 

When to His death the Victim-God 
Toiled, anguish-worn and weary, 

Didst rise, sad blossom, where He trod, 
To deck that path most dreary? 

Ay, fancy sees thy petals shine 
Where His faint footsteps falter, 

Until thv clino^'ino: tendrils twine 

Round Calvar3^'s blood-stained altar. 

And from that scene of woe and scorn 
Thou bring'st the fearful vision 

Of purple robe and crown of thorn. 
His creatures' bhnd derision. 

I trace each emblem, strangely clear, 

Amid thy mystic glor}^ : 
The nails, the gall-soaked sponge, the spear,- 

Types of that mournful story. 



76 Beside the Western Sea, 

'Tis well the record thus to see, 
That each regretful dreamer 

May shrine, in tender memory, 
Thy love, O sweet Redeemer ! 

O martyr-God ! O Lamb Divine ! 

If earthly blooms that perish 
Form of their purple leaves a shrine 

Thy matchless woes to cherish, 

How meet that human blossoms fair 
Those blessed types should borrow, 

And through our blighted Eden bear 
The likeness of Thy sorrow ! 

That so, beside the living stream, 
In heaven's unfading bowers. 

Our souls may w^ear the royal gleam 
Of Love's own passion flowers. 



MAPLE LEAVES. 

O childhood's home across the sea! 

O sweet and sunny past, 
By dream-light guided back to me 

O'er waters wild and vast ! 
O'er wintry wastes of grief and care, 

O'er desert paths of pain, 
In glowing freshness, pure and fair, 

The bright scenes throng again ; 
And Memory's fond and skilful hand 

Full many a vision weaves, — 
Each bright with tints of Fairy-land, 

And crowned with maple leaves : 

A country home, with velvet lawn, 

And fields of golden grain 
And fragrant meadows stretching on, 

Beyond the grassy lane ; 
With garden wealth of glowing flowers, 

With orchard treasures rare. 
With vine-wreath'd porch, and trellised bowers, 

O'erhung with blossoms fair ; 
Yet o'er the winding lane I rove. 

Beyond the golden sheaves, 
For, yonder waves the maple grove, 

Enrobed with glossy leaves. 



^yS Beside the Western Sea. 

What joy beneath those leaves to sit, 

In Summer's softened glow, 
And watch the fairy shadows flit 

O'er mossy dells below ! 
O wondrous books of ancient rhyme ! 

How oft your magic words 
Were blended there, in tuneful chime, 

With songs of woodland birds ! 
And many a tale of sylvan fay, 

Which childish faith receives, 
Was learned where morning's glory lay 

Upon the maple leaves. 

The picture fades — another dream 

Shines on my spellbound sight. 
And village walls of whiteness gleam 

In Summer's rosy light ; 
And o'er the wide and silent street 

Fair trees for ever bend. 
And twined, as in communings sweet, 

Their whispering branches blend. 
Bright maple boughs, my casement's shade ! 

Weird Fancy fondly weaves 
Her dreams, in rainbow hues arrayed, 

Amid your graceful leaves. 

fair, lost home beyond the seas ! 
Through tear-drops falling fast, 

1 see your softly waving trees. 

And greet the risen past. 
In green and glossy robes of Spring 
Those stately guardians stand, 



Maple Leaves. 379 

And sigh their tender murmuring 

To Summer's breezes bland ; 
And Autumn's mellow sunlight glints, 

And Autumn's sad wind grieves, 
Where brightly gleam the gorgeous tints 

Of dying maple leaves. 

And Winter drapes, in fleecy snow, 

The branches brown and bare, 
And leafless stems in brightness glow 

With icy crystals fair ; 
And so, the charms that cannot fade 

Upon those maples nest, 
And Peace, within their magic shade. 

Has built her Eden rest ; 
And I, in visions bright and calm. 

Gaze on, while Memory weaves 
And dowers, with sweet and soothing balm, 

Her crowns of maple leaves. 



ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER * 

Peace warbled through her poet-life 

Its strain of magic sweetness, 
And every golden day was rife 

With Summer's glad completeness. 

An English landscape, fair and calm, 

Greets now her grateful vision, 
And now Italia's bloom and balm 

Bring happiness Elysian. 

And shores of blest enchantment smiled 
Where'er her life-bark drifted, — 

Meet pictures for a poet's child, 
Rare glories for the gifted. 

* Adelaide Anne Procter was the eldest child of Bryan Walter Proc 
ter, best known, as a poet, by his nam de phwie of " Barry Corn- 
wall." His glorious gift was inherited by his sweet and gentle daughter, 
the character of whose poetry is best described by a quotation from an 
article in the Catholic World, entitled, "The poems of Adelaide Anne 
i rocter." The writer says : "Their simple, delicate beauty appeals alike 
to men and women, and to the soul of the young child; tlieir transpar- 
ent clearness is that of an unusually lucid intellect ; their ]-irofoundness 
is only that of a believing heart." Pier conversion to the Catholic faith 
took place when she was about twenty-four years of age. Her life had 
ever been peaceful as a summer day, and her death was tranquil as its 
close. On the Feast of the Purification the heavenly messenger came, 
and, amid the prayers of the Church, whose faithful child she was, her 
pentle spirit passed away. Reqtdescat in pace I 



Adelaide A7i7ie Proctor. 381 

Yet, though she trod a sunny way, 

No idler may we deem her, 
No laggard through the busy day, 

No self-indulofent dreamer. 

Her glowing pen, her ringing song, 

Ceased not its earnest labor 
To plead the right, to crush the wrong, 

To soothe her woe- worn neighbor. 

And in the fragrant Southern land, 
With Truth's white garment o'er her, 

She knelt, with Faith's illumined band, 
A fervent, rapt adorer. 

Ah I well she loved the gleam.ing shrine. 

Home of the man-God hidden. 
Where to the Bridegroom's feast divine 

His faithful ones are bidden. 

And sweet her song of chapels, where 

The Maiden-Mother holy 
Smiled gracious answer to the prayer 

Of hearts sincere and lowly. 

And on that Mother's festal da}^ 

The lights that graced her altar. 
Shone softly o'er the heavenward way 

Of feet that would not falter ; 

For then that fair life reached its close. 
And death's calm angel sought her. 

To bring the better land's repose 
To Poesy's sweet daughter. 



382 Beside the Western Sea. 

So passed she to its blissful rest, 
And lay, a tranquil dreamer, 

Close clasping to her pulseless breast 
The cross of her Redeemer. 

Bright flowers ! lend your fragrant bloom 
To grace that grave-bed lowly, 

And, sunlight ! let no shadow-gloom 
Bedim its brightness holy ; 

For, the dear dust, so treasured there, 
Held once a sweet soul-flower — 

Transplanted, lo ! it bloometh fair 
In amaranthine bower. 

O happy lot, a poet-life. 

Kept free from earth's vile leaven ! 
A '' grand, sweet song " to calm its strife, 

And ring fore'er in heaven. 



THE LESSON HEEDED* 

The sounds of festal music rose within a stately hall, 
And garlands shone, and banners waved, upon its 

gilded wall ; 
A gay and goodly company were brightly gathered 

there, — 
The youthful and the nobly born, the valiant and 

the fair. 
Unheeded fled the smiling night amid the tumult 

sweet, 
The strains of witching melody, the tread of dancing 

feet ; 
Nor faintest note of graver thought could sound 

its warning knells. 
Where rang the tones of pleasure's lute, the clang 

of folly's bells. 
And, 'mid the proud and jewelled throng that 

graced that festal scene, 
One peerless star serenely shone a fondly wor- 
shipped queen : 

* These lines were suggested by an incident in the life of Nano 
Nagle, foundress of the Presentation Order. This lady was one of the 
brightest ornaments of the French Court. Returning one morning 
from a royal ball, she saw a crowd of people waiting at a church door 
for early Mass. So deeply was she struck with the contrast between 
their self-sacrificing piety and her own life of vanity and frivolous 
pleasure, that she immediately formed the resolution of casting off the 
livery af worldly pride, and consecrating herself to the service of the 
" meek and lowly Jesus." How perfectly she fulfilled this glorious 
intention, let the noble Order she founded, and its beautiful work 
among the children of the poor, bear witness. 



384 Beside the Westeini Sea. 

O'er all the gleaming galaxy of brightest beauty 

there, 
That high-born maid of Erin reigned the fairest of 

the fair. 

A murmur of the coming morn dissolved the spells 

of night, 
And through the shadows dimly peered the herald 

beams of light ; 
And as the day its throne upreared within the 

golden East, 
An eager throng thus early came to share a nuptial 

feast. 
A grand and goodly company had fondly gathered 

there, 
Yet not in silken raiment clad, nor decked with 

jewels rare ; 
In mean and tattered drapery they braved the 

wintry cold, 
And oft the thin and pallid cheek its dismal story 

told. 
Yet grand were they, those heirs of heaven, those 

children of the King, 
And goodly was the compan)- o'erwatched by 

angel wing ; 
Nor proud heraldic blazonry, nor wreath'd and 

gilded wall. 
Could match that Monarch's matin feast, that Bride- 
groom's banquet-hall. 
And while they humbly knelt beside the yet un- 
opened door, 
The worldly revel hushed its strain, the stately 

dance was o'er. 



The Lesson Heeded. 385 

And now from worship false and vain, from gods 

of frailest clay, 
The star of courtly splendor turned, in weariness, 

away ; 
And as she sought her regal home, a strange, 

unwonted scene 
Met, on her way, the startled gaze of pleasure's 

petted queen : 
She saw the lowly band that knelt beside the temple's 

gate. 
She saw the " meek and humble" ones their matin 

feast await ; 
And lo ! the Master seemed amid His chosen flock 

to stand, 
With dust upon His tattered robe, and blood-drops 

on His hand : 
" Behold ! " He cried, ''the picture pure, the lesson 

traced for thee ; 
Thus early seek thou wisdom's gate, thus early 

wait for Me." 

They gathered in a simple room that knew no carv- 
ing rare, 

No banner with its proud device, no festal garland 
fair; 

And none amid that childish band could boast a 
lordly name — 

They were the children of the poor, unknown to 
rank or fame. 

They gathered fondly, lovingly, around a gentle nun, 

And sweetly, for the Master s sake, she gave each 
little one 



386 Beside the Western Sea. 

Pure lessons of the precious love that once on earth 

He taught, — 
Glad knowledge of the wondrous work their hidden 

Saviour wrought. 
Thus was the warning heeded well, for, lo ! that 

gentle guide 
Was she who reigned, a royal rose, within the 

realms of pride, — 
Was she who shone with brightest ray amid the 

gleaming train 
That glided through the stately hall to music's 

witching strain. 
Her voice, of softest, sweetest tone, had breathed 

the solemn vow, 
The sable veil replaceth now the gems that decked 

her brow ; 
The dress of coarsest serge enshrouds the form of 

queenly grace 
That lately wore the costly robe, the scarf of dainty 

lace. 
3ut pleasure's vot'ry never knew, amid the pomp 

of pride, 
The peace divine that fills the heart of heaven's 

holy bride ; 
For she hath watched at wisdom's gate, hath heard 

the summons blest, 
Hath cast the worldly burden down, and found the 

promised rest. 
Sweet is the Master's sacred yoke, His service 

maketh glad, 
And rare the feast she shareth now, in " wedding 

garment" clad ; 



The Earth- Angel. 387 

And oft she sees, in vision fair, the shining jasper 

walls, 
The amaranthine garlands twined o'er heaven's 

banquet-halls ; 
And sweetly falleth on her ear the welcome of her 

Lord : 
" Well done, thou pure and faithful one ! behold thy 

rich reward ! " 



THE EARTH-ANGEL. 

I GAZED upon the motley throng 

That filled the sunny street, 
I heard the din of Babel tongues, 

The tread of busy feet ; 
I saw the silken robes of pride, 

And all its bright array 
Of gems, that flashed, in rainbow light, 

Defiance to the day ; 
And yet I marked how oft the sheen 

Of trappings, rich and rare. 
Still darker showed the shades of woe, 

The clouds of brooding care 
How ghastly shone the vacant smile 

On faces wan and worn, 
How hollow rang the gladsome words 

From hearts by anguish torn. 



388 Beside the Western Sea. 

How petty spite and secret scorn 
Were hissed in accents bland, 

And hidden hatred lurked within 
The clasp of friendly hand. 



Ay, mirrored in that shining street, 

And echoed by its din, 
Were all a selfish world's unrest. 

And hollowness, and sin. 
But lo ! upon that busy path 

I saw a gliding form, 
That seemed to bear a spell of peace 

To soothe the restless storm ; 
For, silenced was the Babel tone. 

And, 'mid that motley crowd, 
Full many a brow of pride and scorn 

In deepest rev'rence bowed. 
*Twas well : that form in coarsest serge 

Outshone, in heaven's view, 
The haughty sheen of worldly gems, 

The robes of rainbow hue ; 
And 'neath its quaint white covering 

How gleamed that gentle face 
With halo-light of peace serene, 

And calm, unearthly grace ! 

How fair her gems, — the mystic beads^ 
The rose-wreaths pure and fair, 

The sacred chain that sweetly leads 
To sunlit heights of prayer ! 



The Earth-Angel. 389 

Daughter of Vincent, meek and pure, 

'Twas meet to honor thee, 
O bride of Christ, and handmaid fair 

Of dove-eyed Charity ! 
Thou lead'st the helpless orphan lamb 

From weary waste and wold 
Safe to the pastures fresh and green, 

Safe to the Master's fold. 

Thou shrinkest not from battle-storm, 

Thou tread'st the crimson plain, 
Where speedeth Moloch's cruel car 

Above the heaps of slain ; 
Thou kneelest where the warrior lies 

On that ensanguined sod, 
And showest, to his dying gaze. 

The image of his God. 
Thou biddest care, and want, and woe, 

Their dread dominion cease. 
Thou bringest to the stricken earth 

The blessed boons of peace : 
Be honored, then, in highways broad, 

As in thy calm retreat ! 
Be honored whereso'er shall pass 

Thy consecrated feet ! 



A CONGRATULATORY RHYME. 

[Affectionately addressed to Mrs. H. D, on the birth of her daughter, 
at Geneva, Switzerland.] 

O NEVER brought the swelling sail 

A richer freight or fairer, 
And ne'er of dearer, fonder tale 

Was snowy dove the bearer, 
Than when, upon its pinions fleet, 

Beneath the boundless w^ater, 
The lightning sent its message sweet, 

That bade us bless thy daughter. 
Thy daughter ! To the countless hearts 

That hold thee chiefest treasure, 
The utterance of that name imparts ~ 

Electric thrills of pleasure, 
And bids each grateful spirit be 

A telegraphic station. 
Whence love shall flash across the sea 

Its glad congratulation ; 
And, blended with the words that greet 

Thy pure and priceless treasure, 
We waft the prayer, that graces sweet 

Be hers in boundless measure. 
Good angels guard her smiling rest, 

And watch her gleeful waking ! 
Within her soul its sacred nest 

Mav peace be ever making ! 



Bishop Mc Far land. 391 

Bright be her life as is the glow 

Of Leman's placid fountain, 
And pure as shines the stainless snow 

That crowns her Switzer mountain ! 
O thus we blend, with greetings fond, 

Unnumbered fervent blessings, 
And waft, the restless waves beyond. 

Our countless, glad caressings: 
Our kisses for the brow still bright 

With blest baptismal water ; 
Our smiles, to crown with tend'rest light 
The gem of gems — thy daughter ! 



BISHOP McFARLAND. 

(in memoriam.) 

The warder stricken from the bannered wall ! 

The leader lost amid the battle's heat I 
The voice so still, that rang the warning call ! 

The arm so numb, that gave the foe defeat ! 

But Zion's King hath called her faithful guard. 
And bade His warrior in His triumph share : 

The loyal servant claims his earned reward, 
The soldier resteth from the battle-care. 

O warders, that succeed him on the tower! 

Keep watch like his, around, above, below ; 
O hands, that grasp his shining sword of power ! 

Be strong, like him, to check the daring foe. 



392 Beside the Western Sea. 

And hosts, that miss him from the ceaseless strife I 
Think he awaits you in the home of peace ; 

Fight till jyoi/r day with noblest deeds is rife, 
Fight till, like him, ye win the glad release. 

Ah, valorous chief! the sounding voice of fame 
Hath rung thy glory through the East and West ; 

The sunset-sea doth sing thy mighty name, 

And climes remote give thee their homage blest. 

And now, w^hen tidings of thy loss are borne, 
In wailing tones, across the Western wave, 

Our grief doth rise, our sorrowing spirits mourn 
The pastor true, the leader bright and brave. 

Though fairest garlands deck the sacred shrine 
That holds thee, treasure of the favored East! 

May I not add this simple wreath of mine ? 

Sincere the tribute, though, in worth, the least. 

Take, then, the gift, O spirit pure and blest ! 

And, from thy place amid the ever free. 
Plead for the flocks, earth-roaming, till they rest 

In '* pastures green," by '' waters still," with the 



REV. THOMAS BRIODY. 

Gone ! ere he reached life's fair, meridian height ! 
Gone ! while his path was bright with summers 

bloom 
And the glad glory of the morning sun ! 
Why grew his step so weary that he turned 
From the white harvest and the vintage fair, 
From the dear flocks that knew their shepherd's 

voice, . 
From the decked altar and the waiting feast, 
To seek the silent slumber of the tomb? 
Because his work was finished, and he heard 
The Master's voice that called him to his rest. 
The wondrous echoes of the seraph-song 
Fell on his list'ning ear : afar he saw 

radiant multitude, enshrined within 
The glory streaming from the " great white throne ;" 
Then fondly rang his glaa, ecstatic cry, 
*' Here am I, Lord ! my Master ! lo ! I come ! " 
O faithful pastor! from thy place beside 
The "fair, still waters," thou wilt cast adown 
Thy guardian glance upon the helpless flock 
Still roaming where, across the desert path, 
The torrid glare falls fiercely, or the shade 
Of the chill cloud conceals the thorny snare. 
Ay, thou wilt guide them till the sunset hour; 
And, when the night falls darkly, thou wilt call 
Each wanderer homeward to the shelt'ring fold, 
And the '' green pastures" of his rest with thee. 



NELLIE. 

(in memoriam.) 

[Inscribed to Mrs. R. Finley.] 

Soft, dove-like eyes, and brow serenely fair, 

Crowning a pale, sweet face. 
Where the calm strength a martyr's look might 
wear, 

Shines with its saintly grace. 

So, through the pain-fraught years that marked her 
hfe, 
A patient sufferer smiled ; 
So bloomed a flower, with heaven's own sweetness 
rife, 
Withm earth's dreary wild. 

So, angel-guarded, in its shrine of clay 

A radiant jewel slept; 
Secure, ''unspotted from the world," it lay, 

And changeless lustre kept. 

But, 'mid the weeds that throng our earthly way, 

Heaven's flow'ret found no room ; 
Unheeded, shone its pearl's transcendent ray 

Within this prison gloom. 

So, on white wings, death's angel floated down — 

A casket earth enshrines ; 
But, 'mid the gems that light th' Eternal's crown, 

Another jewel shines. 



Mrs. Sarah E. McCormack. 395 

With soft hands folded on the pulseless breast, 

A white-robed figure lies : 
A ransomed soul hath found its welcome rest 

In radiant paradise. 

Peace, mourning hearts ! upon whose household 
light 

Death's sable shadow fell ; 
With her, whose absence brings the gloom of night, 

Lo ! angels say, '* Tis well." 

Ay, well to know the blest, unbroken sleep, 

To His beloved given, — 
The Sabbath peace, the slumber calm and deep, 

The blissful rest of heaven. 



MRS. SARAH E. McCORMACK. 

O King of Terrors ! thou did'st seek 
A fair, transcendent prize : 

The glow upon a matchless cheek, 
The hght of tender e3^es. 

The queenly grace, serenely set 

Upon a noble brow. 
Life's rare and radiant coronet, — 

This is thy treasure now. 

The smile that on a bright lip played 
Like sunlight, soft and warm ; 

The majesty whose charm arrayed 
A lithe and stately form, — 



,96 Beside the Jl^estern Sea 

These were her gifts, whose cordial hand 
So late was clasped in mine, 

When first, within our Western land, 
I saw her clear eyes shine. 

Her childhood's home beyond the wave 

For ever dark must be : 
Its household light hath found a grave 

Beside the Western Sea ; 

And stricken hearts are mourning here, 

Above that lonely bed : 
And heavy sigh, and bitter tear, 

Bewail the cherished dead. 

O holy Church ! thy mother-heart 
Still clasps the child of grace ; 

And naught its links of love can part, 
Or rend its fond embrace. 

Thy potent prayer and sacred rite 

Embalm the precious clay, 
That waits the resurrection-light,^ — 

The fadeless Easter day. 

And loving hearts, by faith entwined, 

True to that faith sha.ll be. 
And keep the sister-soul enshrined 

In tender memory ; 

Shall bid the ceaseless prayer ascend, 

To win her guerdon blest : 
The radiant day that hath no end, 

The calm, eternal rest. 



MRS. ADA BAINE GUILLEN. 

A LILY-BLOOM from life's fair chaplet riven, 

A star-beam quenched in gloom, 
A priceless pearl, in purest lustre given 

To deck the dismal tomb ; 

A precious life, by patient sufF'ring brightened. 

And crowned with graces rare. 
Whose magic sheen, by anguish-pallor heightened, 

Grew yet more strangely fair, 

Till the pure glow, the radiance resplendent, 

Filled that last hour with light, 
And left its gleam of loveliness transcendent, 

E'en on the veil of night, — 

This was the boon that blessed your earthly bower, 

O hearts by anguish torn ! 
These were the charms that decked your cherished 
flower, — 

Her graces fitly worn. 

Yet, peace ! the jewels of her life are rendered 

To Him whose love bestowed ; 
With added charms, lo ! angel hands have tendered 

Gift meet for His abode. 

'J^he lily-bloom within His fadeless bowers 
Sheds now its fragrant light, 
'or the glad beauty of immortal flowers 
Is won b\ mortal blisrht. 



39S Beside the Western Sea. 

Rememb'ring earth, with all its sorrows weary, 

How glad the voice of praise 
Of that sweet life, that gave its darkness dreary 

For heaven's eternal rays ! 

Check, then, the murmurs of your human sorrow, 

And hush the wail of woe — 
See, stricken ones ! the glory of a morrow 
■ That ne'er can lose its glow : 

The shining courts within the pearly portal, 

Where ransomed spirits meet ; 
The gleaming throng, where white-robed throngs 
immortal 

Bow at their Monarch's feet. 

There shall the flowers, from love's chaplet riven, 

By love's dear hand be twined ; 
And there the gems, to death's cold casket given. 

Each grateful heart shall find. 

There shall ye clasp, in tenderest caressings, 

Your lost, restored again ; 
And there forget, 'mid heaven's fadeless blessings, 

Earth's weariness and pain. 



MRS. MARGARET C MAHONEY. 

"BLESSED ARE THE DEAD WHO DIE IN THE LORD." 

True register of Christian grace, 

Fair crown of deathless fame, 
And fitting epitaph to trace 

Beneath thy cherished name ! 
Ay, thou art with the blessed dead, 

Thou claim'st their bright reward 
Who follow, with unfalt'ring tread, 

The footsteps of their Lord. 
In vain earth showed each golden prize — 

For thee 'twas worthless dross, 
And naught could turn th)^ steadfast eyes 

From truth's unfading cross; 
For wisdom lent her aid divine. 

And thv pure glance could see 
The motto of that saving sign, 

*' All else is vanity." 
Rare lessons hath thy precious life, 

By blest example, taught, — 
By deeds with duty's fragrance rife. 

With heaven's sweetness fraught. 
The stricken hearts in anguish bowed, 

The eyes that weep thy loss, 
Yet see the stars within the cloud, 

The halo o'er the cross ; 



400 Beside the Western Sea. 

The light reflected from thy crown, 

The pure and peaceful ray, 
Sent from thy home of brightness down, 

To guide their upward way. 
Sweet memory of thy virtues, shrined 

The pall of woe beneath ; 
Bright garland of thy graces twined 

With sorrow's cypress wreath, — 
This is thy legacy of love, 

That gladdens e'en the tomb ; 
These are the star-beams from above, 

Still shining through the gloom. 
And these shall deck the golden stair 

O'er which thy loved shall tread. 
To claim, with thee, their places fair, 

Among the blessed dead. 



LITTLE BERTHA. 

[Inscribed to Mrs. W. H. Gleason.] 

A NEW angelic voice 

To swell the ceaseless song! 
O white-robed choir, rejoice ! 

Be glad, ye seraph throng ! 
Another shining beam 

Of heaven's fadeless sun. 
Another jewel-gleam, 

In spotless lustre won ! 
An opening lily, fraught 

With fresh baptismal dew, 



Little Bertha, 401 

In primal beauty brought 

To blossom in love's view ! 
A white lamb, angel-led 

Unto the peaceful fold, 
A birdling early fled 

From wintry cloud and cold ! 
O mourning mother-heart ! 

Look upward from thy woe; 
Behold, the shadows part, 

The morning splendors glow ! 
Upon the gleaming skies, 

Lo ! visions, glad and fair. 
In matchless glory rise, 

To charm thy spirit's care. 
The white-robed legions stand 

Before the Monarch's throne, 
And, 'mid the shining band, 

Lo ! treasures once thine own. 
Ay, throned among the blest, 

All earthl}^ fetters riven. 
Safe, safe on Jesus' breast, 

Two angels thou hast given. 
Two guardians hast thou won, 

For thee to watch, to pray, 
And, when the night is done. 

To guide thee to the day. 
And though thy path be drear, 

Thy pilgrim journey long, 
Unceasing, on thy ear. 

Shall fall their soothing song, 
Till, at the " great white throne," 

Where saints adoring bend, 



402 Beside the Western Sea. 

Thy own triumphant tone 

With seraph strains shall blend ; 

And, gazing face to face, 

Where glory's torrents pour, 

Thy children's fond embrace 
Shall clasp thee evermore. 



MRS. MANUELA T. CURTIS. 

Give all your wealth, O balmy bowers ! 
O choicest store of cherished flowers I 
Bring now your fondest tributes here, 
The fragrant sigh, the dewy tear. 
Let all your hues of light entwine 
Around the fair, yet faded, shrine, 
The casket frail, the blighted bower, 
That held our sweet transplanted flower. 
Ay, yours will be an off 'ring meet, 
For ye have lived in kinship sweet. 
She ministered, with tender care. 
To sister blossoms, pure and fair ; 
And, mirrored in your bloom, we trace 
Sweet semblance of her spirit grace : 
The fragrant charm, the shining dower, 
That decked our fair, immortal flower, 

O kindly hand, that death hath chilled ! 
O faithful heart, for ever stilled ! 
Dread darkness ! hast thou kept no ray, 
No promise, of a coming day ? 



Mrs. Manucla T. Curtis. 403 

Must hope be lost in sorrow's sea, 

And love lie mute with agony? 

No ! shining through the night of woe, 

Behold the sweet auroral glow ! 

Hope on the Living Rock shall stand, 

And show its beam with steady hand, 

While love shall break the spell of pain 

With echoes of her soothing strain : 

" The Lord His covenant shall keep, 

And give to His beloved sleep. 

O sweet soul-flower ! securely rest 

In verdant pastures, calm and blest. 

Lo ! where the stainless lily glows. 

Where bloometh Sharon's royal rose, — 

Beneath life's fair, unfading tree 

For evermore thy place shall be ; 

And there, at last, shall fondly bloom 

Thy loved ones, rescued from the gloom — 

Transplanted from the earthly sod, 

To deck the garden of their God." 



GWIN MAYNARD. 

O DARK death-angel, messenger of woe ! 

The " gleaming mark " thou lovest well is thine ! 
A bright young life is withered 'neath thy blow ; 

The casket pure, the fair and fitting shrine 
Of earth's best gem, — a fresh, unsullied heart, — 
Lies rent and ruined 'neath thy ruthless dart. 

So richly dowered with each youthful grace. 
So bright with promise of a glorious life ; 

A fair soul mirrored in a fair young face, 

With all the charms of hfe's sweet spring-time 
rife, — 

Could not such bloom the angel-reaper stay? 

Alas ! alas ! it is his best-loved prey. 

The reaper's prey ! Yet, words with comfort 
fraught ! 
'Tis '' for his Lord he binds the golden sheaves ; " 
For heaven's bright bowers the seeming spoiler 
sought 
The bloom, with dewy freshness on its leaves. 
That rare soul-flower, that gem of priceless worth, 
Was all too bright, too beautiful, for earth. 

Swiftly he snatched the blossom from its stem. 
Ere dust could soil, or trailing serpent blight — 

Look, eye of faith I in love's own diadem, 
A jewel new, enshrined in living light! 

O mourning hearts! behold your treasure fair, 

Safe, safe and shining, in the Master's care ! 



E. H. Comerford, M. D. 405 

The storms may beat, the winds blow chill and cold, 
No blast disturbs Jiis summer air serene : 

Earth's withered leaves may lie on wood and wold, 
Heaven's stately trees are robed in living green : 

While clouds brood darkly o'er earth's frosty sod, 

Eternal sunshine floods the fields of God. 



E. H. COMERFORD, M. D. 

[Died in Kilkenny, Ireland, January 7, 1875.] 

Sweet is the memory of the just, 

And well the bard hath said 
Their '' actions blossom in the dust, " 

And sweet aroma shed ; 

Each deed, with purest purpose fraught, 

Shall live in deathless bloom, 
Though cold ma}^ lie the hand that wrought. 

Within the silent tomb. 

So live tJiy deeds, O healer kind. 
That soothed with tend'rest art ! 

So lives thy fragrant memory, shrined 
In many a grateful heart. 

So hath thy life its blossoms won 

Of sweet, celestial hue, 
Thou faithful friend, thou tender son, 

Thou brother, fond and true ! 



4o6 Beside the Western Sea. 

Howshines thy name in letters clear, 
Which angel hands record : 

** The soul that knew nor stain nor fear, 
True mirror of its Lord." 

Thy Erin, sweetest Isle of Saints, 
Is fair and fitting shrine, — 

Where serpent-venom never taints, — 
For sacred dust like thine. 

But while, beyond the Western Sea, 

An echo cometh, rife 
With true and tender eulogy 

Of thy untarnished life, 

Made bold by faith's fraternal band, 
That linketh clime to clime. 

Upon thy grave, with stranger hand, 
I lay my wreath of rhyme. 

In spirit there I breathe my prayer : 

O may thy soul be blest. 
With beatfiic vision fair. 

In glad, eternal rest ' 



JAMES McNALLY. 

[Inscribed to his mother.] 

Earth prisons in her shrines of clay 

Full many a jewel rare, — 
Bright gems, resplendent with the ray 

The King's own treasures wear ; 
And many a fair and fragile flower, 

For love's own garden meet. 
Sheds o'er our lone, sin-blighted bower 

Celestial odors sweet. 

So, oft the rare and radiant gem 

From earthly shrine is borne. 
And often from its fragile stem 

The stainless bloom is torn. 
Th)^ leaves, O sweet, transplanted flower ! 

The Master fain would see 
Safe sheltered in His fadeless bower, 

By life's immortal tree. 
And thou shalt deck His kingly crown, 

O gem of priceless worth ! 
And still thy splendor, shining down, 

Shall light the gloom of earth. 

O mother-heart ! by anguish riven, 

O grief-rent soul ! be calm ; 
And with the blow thy God has given, 

Receive His healing balm. 



4o8 Beside the Western Sea. 

While many a weary pilgrim-waif 

'Mid earthly snares must roam, 
The treasure of thy love is safe 

Within his Father's home ; 
While darkly rests the serpent-blight 

On many a blossom fair, 
Its robes of pure, unsullied white 

Thy lily-plant shall wear. 

Ay, twine across his snowy hand 

His chaplet — sacred chain !— 
That linked him to the shining band. 

The Queen's seraphic train ; 
And childish comrades, angel-led, 

With him, through earthly snare, 
Glide on, with soft and reverent tread, 

Beside that body fair, 

Until, upon its couch of clay, 

That favored form shall rest. 
To wait the last, eternal day, 

The summons glad and blest. 
For then, within His diadem. 

Love's royal hand shall twine 
The blossom and its glowing stem, 

The jewel and its shrine. 



HARRY MASSEY. 

A FAIR and fragrant memory 

For ever shall be thine, 
Full many a heart shall treasure thee 

In sweet and sacred shrine : 
Full many a voice shall fondly breathe 

Thy dear and cherished name, 
Full many a hand for thee shall wreathe 

The fadeless crown of fame. 

The frankness of thy sunny smile 

That mirrored peace within, 
Thy glance, undimmed by worldly guile, 

Unmarred by care and sin ; 
Thy noble brow, the fitting throne 

Of hopes sublime and high. 
The brilliant dreams that brightly shone 

From out thy thoughtful eye ; 

Thy graceful gifts, thy worship fond 

Of all things pure and sweet. 
Thy aim, in higher paths beyond, 

To tread with wiUing feet, — 
These are the relics, sweetly set 

In pictured thoughts of thee, — 
The soft'ning shadows of regret 

O'er lights of memory. 



4IO Beside the Western Sea. 

And yet, no shadow can enshroud 

The fair and fadeless ray, 
Where love shall trace, beyond the cloud, 

Thy bright excelsior way ; 
And o'er that path of blissful light 

Religion's hand doth twine 
Her mystic chain, serenely bright, 

Her links of faith divine. 

In fond communion, joined for e'er 

Within that sacred band, 
Lo ! heaven doth shed its splendor fair 

O'er earth's lone desert-land. 
Thus linked within one blessed fold. 

One holy bond of grace. 
The mourning mother-heart shall hold 

Her child in fond embrace. 

The loved ones yet in exile left. 

The sorrow-stricken band, 
The household group, of joy bereft 

By ruthless reaper's hand, — 
Shall still in closest union blend, 

And o'er that path of prayer. 
With fearless footsteps, shall ascend 

The angel-guarded stair, 
Until, beyond its golden gates, 

The gathered flock shall see 
The "pastures fair," where love awaits 

Its glad eternity. 



THE ANGEL AND CHILD. 

[Translated from the French, for Mrs. A. E. S.] 

An angel passed, on wings of light, 

From out the blest, adoring number, 
And softly took his earthward flight. 

To watch an infant's rosy slumber ; 
And, mirrored in the placid face, 

Thus by his guardian glance protected, 
His own pure smile of heav'nly grace 

He saw, as in a brook, reflected. 
*' Sweet child ! " the holv watcher said, 

"Thou angel-likeness, pure and tender ! 
O come with me, where seraphs tread 

The pathway of celestial splendor! 
Fly to thy home of cloudless joy ! 

Earth merits not so fair a treasure ; 
Her golden gifts are base alloy, 

The worthless boons of worldly pleasure. 
Here, smiles foretell the weary sigh. 

And sunbeams hide in shades of sadness ; 
The wail of woe, the anguish-cry. 

Succeed the ringing shouts of gladness. 
Grim fear is joy's unwelcome guest. 

Mirth smiles, the messenger of sorrow ; 
To-day the vales in calmness rest, 

The tempest rules unchecked to-morrow. 



412 Beside the Western Sea. 

Shall terror pale this shining brow ? 

Shall grief o'ercloud its smihng sweetness, 
And dim those azure eyes, that now 

Are bright with joy's serene completeness? 
No ! no ! thy sunny path must be 

O'er fadeless fields and meadows vernal, 
Where star-crowned Peace shall shed o'er thee 

The radiance of a day eternal. 
And thou through endless years shalt wear 

The angel garb, the robe of brightness, 
And no dark stain of guilt or care 

Can ever soil thy vesture's whiteness ; 
No grief shall shroud, in midnight gloom. 

Thy soul's serene and smiling splendor, 
Nor show the dark and cruel tomb, 

Concealed in bloom and brightness tender. 
Then fly, sweet child ! away ! away ! 

Ere time can dim the smile thou wearest : 
Earth's parting hour, her latest day, 

Shall be thy happiest and fairest." 

The angel, 'neath his wings of light, 
Hath fondly clasped a sinless brother; 

To heaven they take their willing flight — 
Thy child is dead, Alas I poor mother I 



IRELAND'S CONSECRATION TO THE 
SACRED HEART. 

[None who have read the beautiful and touching descriptions of the 
Consecration of Ireland to the Sacred Heart, could fail to utter, with 
heartfelt earnestness, "How sweet and how fitting!" Ay, sweet and 
holy is the love that prompted that solemn, sacred oflfering; and most 
fitting is it that the riven heart of long-suffering Erin should be thus 
consecrated to the wounded, sword-rent Heart of the King of Sorrows, 
her Divine Master and Model. ] 

It was a worthy offering for Faith's own martyr- 
land, — 
Her bleeding heart unto her Lord's thus bound by 

sacred band ; 
It was a consecration meet for her whose heart 

hath known, 
Through ages dread, through ages long, an anguish 

like His own ; 
But, pierced and wrung, that loyal heart was still 

His truth's abode, 
Still clear within its guarded shrine, the sacred 

flame hath glowed 
And blended in the weary wail, and wafted with 

the sigh. 
The incense-breath of purest praise and love 

ascended high. 
And O what manna-stores of grace from out His 

Sacred Heart 
Flowed down to bless the stricken land that bore 

her faithful part ; 



414 Beside the Western Sea. 

That faltered not, that murmured not, her cruel 

cross to take. 
That bore the lash, and wore the thorns, and suf- 
fered for His sake ! 
But blessed balm of Gilead, and dew of Hermon 

sweet. 
Have healed the wound, and cooled the wrath, of 

persecution's heat ; 
Have won for her the magic strength that never 

can depart. 
For 'tis the blest supernal strength that fills the 

Sacred Heart. 
And so 'tis meet, O martyr-land ! that on one sacred 

shrine 
Thy bleeding heart should offered be, beside the 

Heart Divine, 
That, in the shadow of its strength, thou may'st 

securely rest, 
And trace a truer copy still, — a likeness yet more 

blest. 
And shall not other lands prepare an offering like 

thine ? 
Respond, Columbia, starry-crowned ! respond, O 

land of mine ! 
Wilt thou not deck a worthy shrine within the 

golden West, 
And offer there the noble heart that beats within 

thy breast ? * 

* Since the above poem was written, most of, if not all, the dioceses of 
the United States have been consecrated to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. 



Ireland'' s Consecration. 415 

Wilt thou not clasp the golden links that naught 

can rend apart, 
And breathe thy consecration-vow unto the Sacred 

Heart? 
O prelates, princes of the realms o'erruled by 

endless Love I 
O ye who stand as sentinels on Zion's walls above ! 
Ah, will ye not within those realms the Sacred 

Heart enshrine, 
And trace upon Columbia's heart a likeness all 

divine ? 
The Heart that throbbed with deathless love in 

Bethlehem's lowly cave. 
The Heart that unto Nazareth's cot its Eden-beauty 

gave ; 
The Heart that pulsed with tenderness, when, 

through the crowded street, 
By lonely shore, in desert wild, He walked with 

tireless feet ; 
The Heart within whose sacred depths the bound- 
less anguish-sea 
Surged wildly, on that wondrous night, in drear 

Gethsemane ; 
The Heart that broke for very love, when rung the 

bitter cry. 
That told a world its life was won — its God had 

deigned to die, — 
That Sacred Heart, that Sacred Heart, its deathless 

pulses yet 
Are throbbing with its mighty love, its yearning, 

fond regret 



4i6 Beside the Western Sea. 

That they for whom it panteth thus, for whom its 
love doth glow, 

No answering throb of gratitude, no flame respon- 
sive, know. 

Then give unto the Sacred Heart the rich and 
radiant land, 

And bind her heart to endless love in Love's eternal 
band ; 

Let incense wreathe, let flowers bloom, where hearts 
adoring bow. 

To breathe before each altar-shrine the consecra- 
tion-vow : 

And thus unto the Sacred Heart, across the Western 
Sea, 

One holy chain of love shall bind the fettered and 
the free. 



THE HOME OF OUR LADY OF THE 
SACRED HEART.* 

The treeless town a silent captive lay, 

Spellbound by summer-heat ; 
And dreary dust, in penitential gray, 

Enrobed the shadeless street. 
A lone Sahara seemed that weary path. 

By toiling pilgrim trod, 
Traced, drear and endless, through a vale ot wrath, — 

A desert, banned by God. 
The wanderer raised her sad and longing eyes, 

And lo ! a vision fair ! 
Faith's steady symbol, pointing to the skies, 

Encrowned a gateway there. 
The pilgrim paused — O scene divinely calm ! — 

Within that portal blest ! 
Fair home of peace ! sweet realm of Notre Dame 

Bright paradise of rest ! 
On dewy leaves, and rainbow blossoms fair, 

A softened splendor hung. 
And balmy fragrance filled that bright parterre. 

From blooming censers flung ; 
And while the wearied day-beams sought repose 

Beyond the purple hill. 
Seraphic tones, in clearest echoes, rose 

With sweet and tender thrill. 

* The above lines were suggested by a visit to the Convent of Notre 
Dame^ San Jose, California. 



41 8 Beside the Western Sea. 

The pilgrim followed where the soft notes led, 

As in a blissful dream : 
Had the freed spirit from its thraldom fled, 

With daylight's dying gleam ? 
A glimpse of heaven hath blessed her longing eyes 

Beyond that cross-crowned gate ; 
Lo ! Sharon's Rose, the sovereign of the skies, 

Throned here in royal state 1 
Beneath her dome that Maiden-Mother stands, 

And O, the matchless grace, 
The tender yearning of her outstretched hands, 

The glory of her face ! 
Lo ! at her feet, in union close and fond, 

A childish figure stands, 
Serenely shrined in sweet and mystic bond, — 

His Mother's shelt'ring hands. 
O likeness fair ! that Mother's matchless grace 

Reflected in her Son ! 
Her tender smile, the light upon His face, 

Seemed blending into one ! 
His gesture fond reveals her gracious part 

In all His life of love : 
One hand points sweetly to His Sacred Heart, 

One shows her smile above. 
And gently there, on fair and youthful heads, 

Low bowed before the shrine. 
That blended brightness of compassion sheds 

A benison divine. 
O picture fair ! sweet home of Notre Dame ! 

On life's lone desert-path 
Thy leafy shade, thy light benignly calm, 

Shall soothe the noontide wrath ; 



Our Lady of the Sacred Heart. 41Q 

And dreary roads, in robes of dusty gray, 

Shall fade from memory's view, 
While sweetly gleams, in summer's glad array, 

Thy bloom of rainbow hue. 
For ever shrined above the bright parterre, 

Its crowning gems shall shine, — 
A child's pure brow reflecting, sweet and fair, 

A mother's smile benign. 
And worldly care, exorcised, shall depart 

When memory's echoed hymn, 
' O sweetest Lady of the Sacred Heart!" 

Floats through the twilight dim. 
While thus is won, from breath of song and bloom, 

Full many a magic gift. 
The pilgrim's voice, from paths of dust and gloom, 

Its grateful tones shall lift. 
Hail, sweetest Lady of the Sacred Heart ! 

Within thy gleaming dome 
All Eden-joys, as royal boons, impart 

To thine own convent-home ! 



THE TRIAL OF ST. FRANCIS DE SALES. 

The desert waste of worldly care 

Hath spots of verdure blest, — 
Oases silent, cool, and fair, 

Where pilgrim-souls may rest ; 
Pure temples, gardens of our God, 

Heaven's shining entrance-gates ; 
Its audience-court, by angels trod, 

Where love eternal waits ! 
Thus blooms, amid a city's dust. 

One ever-bright parterre. 
Thus shines, undimmed by worldly rust, 

One jewel-casket fair. 
There burns the fadeless lamp before 

The hiding-place of Love, 
And there its " Well-Beloved " o'er 

Hovers the Holy Dove ; 
And near that altar's light and bloom 

The Maiden-Mother stands. 
Clasping the Conqueror of the tomb 

Within her sinless hands. 

A spectral figure glideth slow 

Through faith's serene retreat, 
And sinks, in agony of woe. 

At Mary's sacred feet. 



The Trial of St. Francis de Sales. 421 

What tortures thrill that prostrate form? 

Ah! whence that anguish-rain? 
What power could rouse such fearful storm 

Of wildest woe and pain? 
Hath conscience, checked through guilty years, 

Arisen in wrath at last ? 
Doth sorrow shed its burning tears, . 

To mourn the sinful past? 
Ah, no ! yet near that favored soul, 

i\li white as lily's bloom, 
The Tempter's baneful shadow stole. 

And brought its night of gloom. 
Wild was the storm, and dread the spell, 

The king of darkness wrought, 
And ever through that darkness fell 

His hissed and cruel thought: 
** Vain is thy vigil, vain thy prayer, 

Hope sheds no ray for thee ; 
Thine is the blackness of despair, 

Through all eternity." 
So passed each anguish-laden day, 

So fled each dismal night. 
Till the frail body owned the sway 

That wrought the spirit's blight. 
O stricken, crushed, yet faithful soul! 

Thy glad release is near — 
Afar the gloomy clouds must roll, 

When faith shall conquer fear. 
*' Sweet Mother! " thus his anguish-cry 

In sobbing utterance woke, — 
*' If thus my dearest hopes must die, 

Beneath this fearful stroke ; 



42 2 Beside tlie IVesierii Sea. 

If, through the dread, eternal years, 

The woful fate be mine, 
To curse, 'mid bitter, burning tears, 

Thee and thy Son divine ; 
If I must hate, in realms of death, 

O let me love thee now. 
Still keeping, till my latest breath, 

My holy service- vow ! " 
Could Mary's heart such pleading scorn? 

O '' Memorare " blest I 
Thy power unto that spirit lorn 

Hath brought the blissful rest. 
Scarce had he breath'd the first sweet word 

When, lo ! the spell is broke ! 
The Queen of Hope her servant heard, 

And slumb'ring joy awoke. 
The fiery martyrdom is past, 

The night of trial o'er. 
And lo ! the sunlight shines at last, 

Whose beams shall pale no more. 
O favored Francis ! happy saint ! 

When storm-clouds linger nigh, 
And, battling in the gloom, we faint, 

Hear thou our anguish-cry ! 
By thy dread trial, lend thine aid 

Until the strife be done, 
And peace shall shine, that may not fade, 

By Mary's power won. 



A MOTHER'S PRAYER. 

The regent of a goodly realm, 

A sovereign wise and fair, 
Gazed fondly on her youthful son. 

And breath'd her earnest prayer,— 
The one Avish of her loving heart, 

Her ceaseless, solemn thought, — 
Sole boon her love had craved for him, 

The only prize she sought. 

Was it new conquests ? blood-bought gems, 

To deck his kingly hand ? 
Fair realms, by cruel triumphs wed 

Unto his rightful land ? 
Rich trappings, robes of royal state, 

A fawning courtier throng? 
Or minstrels' ringing lays, to pour 

The flatteries of song? 

Nay, nay ! no earthly leaven base. 

No worldlv dross could cling- 
Unto that pure, maternal prayer 

For France's 3'outhful king: 
*' My precious son, more dear than life, 

More prized than aught on earth ! 
In all this false and fleetino- world 

My only gift of worth ! 



424 Beside the Western Sea, 

^' Oh, loved and cherished as thou art, 

Far rather would I weep 
Above the bier where thou wert laid 

In thy last, dreamless sleep. 
Than live to know this form of thine 

Held, foully shrined within, 
A tarnished gem, a soul defiled 

By e €71 one mortal sin ! " 

Well answered was that mother's praj^er ! 

No foul, polluting taint 
E'er marred the white and shining soul 

Of France's royal saint : 
His pure baptismal robe of grace, 

Unstained, through life he wore ; 
The lily sceptre of the just 

King Louis brightly bore. 

O Christian matron ! in thy heart 

This lesson fair enshrine. 
And let the blest, heroic prayer 

Of holy Blanche be thine. 
For, what are all the gifts of earth, 

The charms of form and face, 
If the immortal soul hath lost 

Its bright baptismal grace? 

Ay ! what avails the wealth of worlds, 

If, lured b}' syren vice, 
God's heir hath sold his birthright fair, 

His only " pearl of price " ? 
In vain may proud ambition grasp 

Vast realms to tyrants given. 
If from his guilty hand hath passed 

The heritage of heaven. 



SAINT PHILIP NERPS QUESTION. 

O WORLDLY hearts, close linked to gods of clay ! 

O foolish feet that chase the flying beams 1 
O spellbound ears enraptured by the lay 

Ambition sings, in false and fleeting dreams ! 
Pause in your worship, cease your senseless race. 

List to the voice that drowns the syren's song, 
That hurls the idol from its lofty place, 

And stays the tumult of the hast'ning throng ! 

** Proud plans are thine," the holy Philip said 

To one bowed low o'er tomes of legal lore, — 
*' Tell them, my son." The student lifts his head : 

" I seek the gems in learning's depthless store ; 
My hand would grasp the treasures of the wise. 

And seize the wealth fair Science calls her own ; 
From halls renowned would bear the gleaming 
prize. 

And clasp the crown the victor wears alone." 
The student paused. '' And then?" still urged the 
saint. 

" Then power, and fame, and honors shall be mine ; 
Then fairer scenes than fancy's skill could paint 

Of triumphs proud, upon my path shall shine." 
*' And then? " Again that question, low, yet clear. 

Still proudly shone the scholar's dreamy eye, 
Still sung the syren to his spellbound ear, 

And still ambition urged his quick reply : 



426 Beside the Western Sea. 

" Then all that wealth, with magic hand, can give, 

My conquered boons, my boundless store, shall be; 
In lofty halls sole monarch will 1 live. 

King of all treasures of the earth and sea." 
'' And then ? " A shadow crossed the shining brow- 
Yet struggling still to cast its pall aside : 
*' To death's stern mandate I at last must bow," 

Forcing a smile, the dreaming youth replied. 
*' And then? And then?" The syren song was 
still. 

Dark fell the shade o'er fancy's pictures fair ; 
Through that young heart swift sped a swordlike 
thrill, 

And fairy scenes grew dim and blighted there. 
*' And then, my son, all worldly dreams must fade , 

In the dread radiance of an endless dawn. 
Where, then, those hopes, in rainbow tints arrayed ?, 

Where those proud pageants? — gone, for ever 
gone 1 
Will the false lustre of a lofty name 

Dazzle His eye who sits upon the throne ? 
Canst thou then sound the trumpet-notes of fame 

To awe thy Judge, or still His sentence-tone?" 

O magic words ! Ambition's reign was o'er — 
Its golden chains, as ropes of sand, were riven ; 

And the proud heart that sought its fleeting store, 
To holier sway and purer search was given. 



THE CAPTIVE'S WELCOME TO DEATH. 

My rest draws near. 
This weary life has reached its welcome close ; 
The vast, sad burden of its clinging woes 

I cast off here. 

At last, at last, 
The blessed hour of sweet release hath come, 
When the wild pangs that made these pale lips dumb 

Will all be past. 

No more, no more, 
For thy frail loveliness, O earth ! I pine : 
Freedom and light eternal shall be mine, 

Beyond thy shore. 

Thou better land ! 
My soul hath caught the glory and the gleam 
I vainly sought in youth's deluding dream. 

Entranced I stand, 

And on my ear 
Steals the glad rushing of thy rivers free, — 
The blissful echoes of thy harmony. 

Remote, yet clear. 

Ere long, ere long, 
White-robed and crowned, amid the shining band 
This weary captive fetterless shall stand. 

And join thy song. 



428 Beside the ]Vc stent Sea, 

Father, to Thee 
I give up all to which my soul hath clung, — 
Idols of clay, on whose frail strength I hung,- 

For, unto me, 

At length, is given 
The eye of faith, clear-seeing and serene ; 
And not one cloud of earthly love between 

Its glance and heaven. 



OUR LADY'S DEATH. 

Lift, radiant East! 
Your flaming doors ! fling wide your gates of gold ! 
A Queen would pass beyond your bars to hold 

Her royal feast. 

O blissful bower, 
Bedecked anew ! prepare her shining way ; 
For brightly breaks the blest transplanting day 

Of Sharon's Flower. 

O night of woes ! 
O drear remembrance of the bitter past ! 
Your reign is o'er, the glory dawns at last, 

The morning glows. 

The selfish town, 
The chilly cave, the dreary desert way, 
The pagan land, where Love secluded lay 

From tyrant frown. 



Our Ladys Death. 429 

The pangs, the fears, 
That watched the life by pain and peril led, — 
His life, who owned '' no place to rest His head " 

Through weary years. 

The woful way 
With those who watched beside the martyr-God, 
Whose fainting steps their blood-decked journey 
trod, 

Our debt to pay. 

The sword that rent 
Her mother-heart who fondly, firmly clung 
To the dread cross whereon her dear One hung, 

Till life was spent. 

The death-cold face. 
The pallid lips, that spoke no soothing tone, 
The lifeless arms close-clasped within her own 

In dread embrace : — 

All, all is o'er. 
No memory-pang can rend that royal soul, 
Where love and joy shall keep their sweet control 

For evermore. 

Her realm is won, 
The radiant crown shall wreathe her sinless brow ; 
The Mother claims her throne of brightness now, 

Beside her Son. 

No dismal tomb 
Held that fair form within its blighting power : 
The serpent-trail could leave no venom-dower 

On Israel's bloom. 



430 Beside the Western Sea. 

Na}^ stainless Queen! 
Thine is the triumph of thy blessed Son: 
Corruption foul bv thee, thou holy one ! 

Was never seen. 

When the last sigh 
From thy pure lips in peaceful breath had fled, 
Thy seraph-train, on swiftest pinions, sped 

From realms on high. 

Thy body fair 
Through gates of gold, beyond the radiant East, 
Triumphant passed — the glad, eternal feast 

Of love to share. 

Our sweet release 
From clinging bonds of misery and sin, 
O Mother pure ! O Queen of mercy ! win, 

In deaths of peace. 



"HERE SHE IS AGAIN." 

[The following poem was suggested by an incident which occurred 
in one of the proselytizing schools in Ireland. A poor Catholic boy, 
tempted by want, was induced to attend the school. On one occasion, 
when the Protestant bishop was examining the pupils, he asked the 
Catholic child to repeat his prayers. Having finished the Lord's 
Prayer, the boy proceeded to say the Angelical Salutation, or, Hail, 
Mary, but was instantly stopped by the bishop, who said: "We do 
not want to hear anything about her. Go on with the Apostles' Creed." 
The bo J accordingly began the Creed; but, after saying, "Who was 
conceived by the Holy Ghost," abruptly stopped. ''Why do you 
pause ? " asked the bishop. " What am I to do now, sir, for here she 
is again ?" replied the boy, alluding to the name of the Blessed Virgin, 
in the words, "born of the Virgin Mary," which immediately follow.] 

Ay, she is here ! The seamless robe of truth 
To her blest name doth owe its wondrous strength. 
No change can rend its shining threads apart, 
For, woven firmly in its warp and woof, 
Ay, broidered there, in chains of priceless pearls, 
Lo ! these sweet words that angels joy to breathe : 
*' The Virgin Mary, Mother of the Lord." 
She in salvation's gracious plan hath shared, 
And Love's sweet sacrifice doth own her aid : 
Redemption's work would else be incomplete. 
Through all the scenes of that strange history, — 
That wondrous life that hid itself m clay, — 
One bright companion-figure ceaseless moves. 
In the chill cave of churlish Bethlehem 
The sinless Mother watched her infant God, 
And owned earth's Monarch on His throne of 
straw. 



432 Beside the Wester^i Sea. 

The blissful days fled like a vision by : 

In the poor cottage home of Nazareth, 

Where the child Jesus grew in age and grace, 

Submissive to the gentle Mother-Maid, 

Who kept His sayings treasured in her heart, 

The hidden God began His work of love 

At Mary's potent mandate. Cana's feast 

Saw the strange power of those maternal tones. 

That won the first sweet miracle of Christ, 

When, as the gold-tongued poet chronicles, 

" The conscious water saw its God, and blushed ! " 

And when Redemption's tender story drew 

Near its dread close ; when all its kindly deeds 

And loving toil received His world's reward, — 

A thorny crown, a royal garment dyed 

In royal blood, a throne enriched with gems 

From hands outstretched, and nail-transfixed feet, — 

Here, too, is she co-martyr in His woe. 

For, lo ! the Gospel, '' Now His Mother stood 

Beside the cross of Jesus." Unto death 

Faithful and fond ! O tend'rest mother-heart! 

And there He gave — ay, listen, scoffer proud ! — 

To her His last sweet legacy of love: 

'' Behold thy Mother!" and, '' Behold thy son !" 

O ingrate heirs of that divine bequest ! 

Unthankful children ! Can eternal love 

Look kindly on rebellion that disowns 

The sweet and sinless handmaid of the Lord, 

The cherished guardian of His children fair, 

The loved co-worker in redemption's toil ? 

She unto whom the echoing ages breathe 

The greeting learned from Gabriel's angel lips, 



Here She is Again. 433 

"The Lord is with thee ! Hail, then, full of grace ! " 

O King of Truth ! we praise Thee, — she is here ! 

O Lord of Love ! we bless Thee, — she is here ! 

O sweet Redeemer ! bid our tongues be mute. 

Our hands " forget their cunning," if we fail 

To give Thee thanks. O joy, that she is here ! 

Here in the weary desert of our woes, 

A shining column o'er the pilgrim path, 

A steady star above the crimson sea, 

Sure guard and guide unto the " pastures green, " 

And the '' still waters " of the better land ! 

How could we tread, without our beacon-light, 

This dark and lonesome valley — how escape 

The serpent-snares upon that weary way ? 

Or how sustain the '* burden and the heat " 

Of our drear journey ? Mary! Mother! hail! 

As once thine own prophetic voice did sing, 

All generations of the faithful race 

Shall call thee blessed — handmaid of the Lord ! 

We hail thee, Mary ! Maiden full of grace ! 

Mother of God ! above all women blest ! 

O leave none orphans ! lead each rebel home, 

To the safe shelter of thy mother-love. 

That all may join thy children's pasan-tone : 

" We thank thee. Lord ! Thy Mother still is here ! " 



OUR LADY OF LA SALETTE. 

Not to the purple-robed princes of earth, 

Not to the palace of pride, 
Not where the sceptics, with blasphemous mirth, 

Love's pure Evangels deride ; 
Not in the capital's echoing street, 

Not where the busy have met 
With babel of voices and tramping of feet, 

Came the Lady of La Salette. 

Not to the holy and peace-haunted cell, 

Not to the home of the saint, 
Not where in cloistered seclusion they dwell 

Who flee from the world's venom-taint ; 
Not to the guarded and flower-decked shrine, 

Where the Jewel of jewels is set, — 
Not e'en the retreat of her Treasure divine 

Won the Lady of La Salette. 

But to the little and lowly of earth. 

Shepherds who " guarded their flocl^s,'* 
Simple of spirit, and humble of birth. 

Dwelling content 'mid the rocks,— 
Ay, to the children untainted with guile, 

Untortured with care or regret, 
With halo celestial, and tenderest smile. 

Came the Lady of La Salette, 



Our Lady of La S alette. 435 

Sadly she wept o'er the sins of the world, 

Lifting the dread arm of wrath, 
Speeding the judgment, swift to be hurled 

Down on the guilty ones' path ; 
Pitying promise of mercy she gave, 

Soothing the heaven-sent threat : 
Of pardon, that only repentance can crave, 

Spoke the Lady of La Salette. 

O beautiful vision ! O children more blest 

Than the greatest and wisest of earth ! 
O fountain, that flowed where the glorious guest 

Hath loosened the spell of thy dearth ! 
O hamlet so favored ! though long years have flown, 

A world gives thee reverence yet ; 
Sweet spot, that the radiant presence hath known 

Of our Lady of La Salette ! 

O penitent France ! thou hast felt the dread sword 

In the hand of Omnipotent wrath ; 
The angel-avenger his vials hath poured 

Down on thy sin-sullied path ; 
But cheer thee ! for mercy and peace from above. 

Are won by thy grief and regret : 
Dear land ! thou art safe in the sheltering love 

Of our Lady of La Salette. 

At t: y wonderful shrine, O thou Lady most sweet I 

A pilgrim in spirit I bend. 
And homage of gratitude, earnest and meet, 

I give for the boons thou didst send, — 



43 6 Beside the Western Sea. 

For answer so gracious, for healing so swift, 
When Hps parched with fever were wet 

With health-bringing drops from thy bounteous gift, 
Thy fountain of La Salette. 

Poor votive, I ween, is this rude lay of mine 

'Mid costliest tributes to place, 
But even the farthing finds favor divine 

In the coffers of infinite grace ; 
And O may the dearth of my sin-fevered soul 

With drops from thy fountain be wet. 
And healing be won by the tender control 

Of our Lady of La Salette ! 



TRUE HEROISM. 

Ye weave for the hero bright chaplets of fame, 
Ye hail his approach with your loudest acclaim. 
What, though the fair flowers are dyed 'neath his 

tread. 
And the streamlets flow dark with the blood he hath 

shed ! 
And what, though the death-shriek and agonized 

wail. 
And the curses of stricken ones blend on the srale ! 
Though the heavens are dark with the storm-clouds 

of wrath, 
And vengeance still broods o'er the conqueror's 

path, — 



T7'ue Heroism. 437 

Ye see but the halo that crowneth his name, 
Ye hear but the trumpet that vaunteth his fame. 
Ye are dazzled and led by the false lurid glare, 
Ye are charmed by the pseans that ring on the air ; 
And with song and with shouting the hero ye greet, 
And ye twine the fair chaplets to die at his feet. 
But soft steps are stealing where fiercely he sped 
O'er the battle-field heaped with the dying and 

dead. 
Undaunted, unchecked by the war-demon's ire, 
They fearlessly glide o'er the pathway of fire, 
Unheeding the thunder that thrilleth the plain, 
Unheedmg the rush of the wild bullet-rain. 
And meek faces bend where the soldier lies low, 
And kind hands are staunching his life-torrent's flow ; 
And soft voices breathe the sweet accents of 

prayer, 
To soothe the dread anguish of death and despair ; 
And the pitying tone and the bountiful hand 
Bring comfort and peace to the desolate band. 
To the victims of war to the vanquisher's prey, 
To the hearts he has crushed in his conquering 

wa3\ — 
Ay, the soft, gliding step, and the delicate form 
That scorned the wild wrath of the dread battle- 
storm, 
Steals silently now on its mission of peace, 
To bid the sad wail of the lone orphan cease. 
And when the foul pestilence heareth afar 
The music of Moloch — the tutnult of war, 
And wingeth his flight on the pinions of death, 
To scatter the blight of his curse-laden breath,— 



43 S Beside the Western Sea. 

Doth the hero who weareth the wreath of your 

praise, 
Haste, then, the proud standard of conquest to 

raise ? 
Doth he meet the dread plague ? Doth he hurl at 

the foe 
Defiance and death in his terrible blow? 
Ah ! no ! o'er your garlands that shine at his feet 
The conqueror speeds in his coward retreat ; 
And his proud cheek is blanched with the palloT 

of fear, 
And faint is the arm that hath lifted the spear. 
But a soft step is gliding o'er regions of death, 
Where the pestilence scatters his curse-laden breath. 
And meek faces bend o'er the plague-stricken bed. 
And watch by the couch whence the dearest have 

fled; 
And the kind hands will soothe, and the soft voices 

bear 
A peace-giving balm on the white wings of prayer. 
Who, then, are the brave ? Whose the worthiest 

claim 
To the paeans of praise, to the chaplets of fame ? 
'Tis a delicate maiden, who courts not applause, 
Who serveth her Saviour, and aideth His cause ; 
'Tis the Sister of Charity, gentle and meek, — 
But the glory of earth is a tribute too weak 
For the herome of heaven, the toiler for fame 
With chaplets eternal, and endless acclaim ; 
Whose glory shall live when the victor's proud 

wreath 
Lies faded and trampled the grave-dust beneath ; 



Orate ^ Fr aires. 439 

Whose triumph shall sound when the conqueror's 

song 
Hath died in the distance of centuries long. 
For hers are the deeds that are worthy alone 
The hymns that ascend by the martyr-God's throne 
From the white-vestured throng, with the conquer- 
ing palm, — 
The numberless legions that follow the Lamb. 



ORATE, FRATRES. 

" Orate, fratres !" through the felence solemn 

Rings out the pleading cry ; 
On incense-clouds, entwining arch and column, 

Glad answers rise on high : 
For, favored throngs, in adoration bending, 

The sweet request obey. 
Lo ! countless chains to love's fair throne ascending, 

Where faith-bound brethren pray. 

" Orate, fratres !" bond of blest communion ! 

O strong and sacred spell ! 
O magic words! of highest, holiest union 

Your tender accents tell ; 
For, faith divine, and love sublime and holy, 

And truth, with mingled ray. 
Illume alike earth's lofty and her lowly. 

When brethren humbly pray. 



440 Beside the Western Sea. 

From desert cliaie, and region rich and pleasant, 

'Neath fair or frosty skies, 
In blended tones of love-linked prince and peasant 

Sweet supplications rise ; 
Where'er, beside the "clean oblation's" altar, 

His loved their homage pay, 
In ceaseless tones, that cannot faint or falter. 

Adoring brethren pray. 

The priestly voice that wins Love's consecration 

In sacrifice divine, 
The kneeling vot'ries' whispered supplication 

Before that sacred shrine, — 
Each potent tone the white- winged prayer is send- 
ing 

Upon its heavenward way. 
Each earnest voice in magic chain is blending, 

When fervent brethren pray. 

The suffring soul that burns in blest purgation. 

The earth-bowed heart that faints, 
The voice that sings the '' new song " of salvation, 

Iq brotherhood of saints, — 

In bond most pure, in true and fond communion, 

To love sweet homage pay ; 
And freed and fettered cry, in tend'rest union, 

'' Orate ! brethren, pray ! " 



THE CHRISTMAS TREE. 

The waving woods of sunny Spring, 

With leaves of living green, 
The fairy shade those branches fling, — 

Are fitting themes, I ween. 
For artist's skill and poet's lay ; 

For fair it is to see 
The spring-tide bloom of orchards gay, 

The vernal forest tree. 

And in the Summer's golden prime, 

O sweeter still to lie. 
And list. the forest's murmur-chime, 

And catch, of cloud and sky. 
Fair, trembling glimpses, while the boughs 

Are swaying dreamily, — 
Soft answers to the South Wind's vows 

That thrill the summer tree ! 

And lo ! the gay and goodly sight. 

When Autumn rules the land, 
And halo-crowned with mellow light, 

The tinted maples stand. 
Ay, when the frost-enchanter weaves 

His first fair tracery. 
How rich the robe of rainbow leaves 

That decks the dying tree ! 



442 Beside the Western Sea. 

But when, beneath its shroud of snow, 

The silent landscape lies, 
And faded is the sunny glow 

From out the winter skies, 
Then bright with icy jewel-sheen — • 

O wonderful to see ! — 
The glad, immortal evergreen, 

Hope's never-dying tree ! 

These are the fresh and favored boughs, 

These are the branches fair. 
That Love's benignant hand endows 

With fruitage rich and rare ; 
Ay, here the gleeful children know 

Are treasures sweet to see, 
When hosts of starry tapers glow 

Upon the Christmas tree. 

O magic tree, whose branches bring 

The gifts of every clime ! 
The bloom and brightness of the Spring, 

The fruits of summer-time, 
And richest of the gems that glow 

In deathless mine and sea, 
Upon thy boughs of beauty grow, 

O bounteous Christmas tree ! 

Long may those blessed branches spread, 

Long may their shadows fall 
Within the simple peasant-shed. 

The stately palace-hall ! 
Long may the '' least ones " of His fold, 

Whose face their angels see, 
The Christ-Child's loving smile behold 

Above the Christmas tree. 



SAINT PATRICK'S DAY. 

••I BELIEVE IN THE COMMUNION OF Saints.'' — Apostle^ Creed, 

Rise, lonely mourner, crouching by the shore, 
O pallid Erin ! proudly rouse thee now ! 

Call back the smile, the joyous smile of yore, 
To thy dim eyes and sadly drooping brow. 

For one bright day, O check the rain of tears ! 

For one bright day, forget the woes of years ! 

Of the green shamrock clustering at thy feet 
O'er the long-silent harp a garland fling, 

And wake once more the tones so wildly sweet, — 
The bold, free strains, thy bards so well could sing 

In those proud days, when, emerald-crowned and 
free, 

Thou satst a queen, beside the smiling sea. 

Island of Saints ! why bearest thou that name? 

Faith's holy symbol shines upon thy brow ; 
Who brought its beam ? who lit the sacred flame 

That brightly burns upon thy altars now ? 
Bethink thee well ; up ! up ! and, for his sake, 
With hymns of joy the slumb'ring echoes wake. 

Ay, she will rise ! E'en now she proudly stands, 
A holy triumph flashing from her eye ; 

The bonds are shaken from her royal hands. 

Checked are her tears, hushed is her wailing cry, 

The harp is wreathed, and now the noble lay 

Rings proudly forth to speak her joy to-day. 



444 Beside the Western Sea. 

Hark ! hark ! it floats far o'er the Western Sea ! 

Her exiled sons have caught the thrilling strain, 
And as they list those welcome notes of glee, 

Their palsied hearts awake to life again ; 
And now the}^ haste, a glad and grateful throng, 
To wreathe their lyres, to swell the holy song. 

'Waked by those sounds, the glowing dreams of 
yore, 
Like phantoms, glide through burning soul and 
brain ; 
On Tara's hill her monarch sits once more. 

And round him throng a brave and brilliant 
train, — 
The dauntless heroes in the bloody fray, 
The mighty chiefs of Erin's war-array. 

Lo ! ' mid that throng a single form appears ! 

Where ring the harps one thrilling voice is heard ; 
The wild song ends, down fall the flashing spears, 

And savage wills obey the sacred word ; 
Low in the dust the haughty monarch bends. 
And on his brow the saving stream descends. 

The perfect day succeeds its dawnings faint. 
Soon Erin basks in learning's beaming smile ; 

The savage chief becomes the Christian saint. 
And wond'ring nations bless his holy isle. 

Fair temples rise — through cloistered arches dim 

Floats the pure prayer, and rings the holy hymn. 



Saint Patrick^ s Day. 445 

Night came at last, — the dark and dreadful night, 
How deep o'er Erin's life its shadow fell I 

How fiercely clung the Saxon's wasting blight, 
Let ruined shrine and mould'ring abbey tell ; 

But from her brow the spoiler could not tear 

One priceless gem that brightly glistened there. 

In vain he doomed to tortures and to death 
The helpless children of that sufiTring isle ; 

Unquenched, undimmed, the blessed light of faith 
Nerved the racked frame, and lit the martyr's 
smile, 

And sweetly burned, with pure, unclouded ray, 

To light the exile on his weary way. 

Though proudly still the stranger's banners wave, 
Yet once again Faith's temple decks her land, 

And he who crouches on his plains a slave. 
Beneath that holy roof may firmly stand : 

No tyrant there can claim the servile knee — 

At God's pure shrine the Christian Celt is free. 

Erin go bragh ! " thy children's love shall live 
For thee, fair home of virtue's holy ray ! 

And grateful hearts shall fondl}^ freely give 
Cead viille failtha^ to his natal day 

Who brought that beam, who bade them firmly 
cling 

To faith's brisrht cross, the banner of her Kingf. 

* Erin go bragh — Erin for ever. 
, t Cead mille failtka — Ten liundred tliousand welcomes. 



THE DAISY. 

In quiet paths, with loving grace caressing 

The weary pilgrim's feet, 
There, smiling back his fond and fervent blessing, 

With dewy eyes so sweet, 

Behold the modest daisy ! Rural blossom ! 

It needs no sorcerer's art 
To read the motto on thy gentle bosom : 

" Simplicity of heart." 

Thus have I found thee in the golden even, 

When dewy pearls were set, 
To mirror back the radiant smile of heaven, 

In thy fair coronet. 

Fondly Fve blessed thy simple charms adorning 

The grassy altar where. 
In the calm splendor of the early morning. 

Rapt nature knelt in prayer. 

And when the spell of noontide's wizard hour 

Held earth in still embrace, 
Oft hast thou roused my spirit's fainting power 

By thy fresh, smiling face. 

To the pure lessons of thy gentle teacher, 

O listen, heart of mine ! 
For the sweet glance of nature's silent preacher 

Hath eloquence divine. 



To a Young Friend. 447 

In the soft glory of thy youth's fair morning, 

From pride and art still free, 
Be then the daisy's charm thy best adorning, — 

Serene simplicity. 

Content to bloom in hidden paths and lowly, 

To shed an influence sweet, 
And with thy tranquil brightness, fresh and holy, 

To calm life's noontide heat ; 

Then, in the silence of its golden even, 

Crowned with the dew of grace, 
Thou shalt reflect, in smiling hues of heaven, 

The dear all-Father's face. 



TO A YOUNG FRIEND. 

I LOOK into thy laughing eyes, 

I hear thy voice of glee. 
And onlv think of summer skies, 

And bird-notes glad and free ; 
And fondly, from my inmost heart, 

I breathe this ferv^ent prayer : 
" Be ever free, as now thou art, 

From sorrow and from care." 

Alas ! I hear the moaning blast, 

I see the winter rain. 
And dream no more of pleasures past 

But wake to present pain ; 



44^ ' Beside the Western Sea. 

I think how life is ever made 

Of mingled joy and care, 
And of its sunshine and its shade 

Each, each must know a share. 

Peace ! peace ! 1 turn my weary eyes 

Far onward to the Spring, 
I see the future's sunny skies, 

I hear its robins sing ; 
Sweet thoughts of heaven fill my heart, 

I breathe this better prayer : 
"Father! when earthly clouds depart, 

O give her sunshine there ! " 



THE ORDEAL OF QUEEN EMMA. 

'TwAS done in England's elder days, 

Long ere the curtness quaint 
Of Saxon speech and Saxon ways 
Had caught the softer style and phrase 
Of courtly Norman taint ; 

When e'en religion's precepts bland 

Scarce checked the savage mood : 
For, though the sceptre of the land 
Was held in Edward's saintly hand, 
Full many a custom rude 



The Ordeal of Queen Emma, 449 

Around the rock-bound island cast 

Its fierce, desDOtic thrall. 
And of those laws, linked firm and fast, 
One relic of the pagan past, 

I ween, o'ermatched them all, — 

" The fiery ordeal." Thus they named 

That strange and fearful test. 
Wherein the burning bars proclaimed 
If he, of foul transgression blamed, 

Must still be banned or blest. 

For, if that fierce and fiery path 

He crossed in triumph o'er, 
Then proudly from the road of wrath. 
All safe, and free of guilty scath, 

The rescued one they bore. 

But woe to him whose heart could yield 

To coward, craven fear. 

Or if one scar his guilt revealed ! 

For then his dismal fate was sealed, 

And death came swift and drear. 
* * ^ -x- ^ * 

As 'mid the chosen twelve abode 

A Judas false and vile, 
So in the courtly train that rode 
Beside the King, Earl Godwin showed 

The traitor's demon-guile. 

His tongue of malice e'en could dare 

To cast its slander-taint 
Upon the court's queen lily rare, — 
The holy Emma, wise and fair. 

Fit mother of a saint. 



45^ Beside the Westeim Sea, 

Alas ! the saintly monarch lent 

His too confiding ear 
To that false tale, and rashly sent, 
To long and dreary banishment, 

His parent good and dear. 

Against that verdict's doom imjust 

The stricken queen appealed 
To Him in whom the righteous trust, — 
Who raiseth virtue from the dust, 
And biddeth falsehood yield. 

Then uttered they the stern decree, 
The sentence fierce and dread : 

" The fiery ordeal now shall be 

Her test of truth and purity. 
Barefooted must she tread 

" O'er nine red-heated ploughshares, placed 

Within Saint Swithin's fane. 
If safe her steps that pathway trace. 
She shall be free from foul disgrace. 
And dark suspicion-stain." 

Three days her solemn fast she kept, 

And at Saint Swithin's shrine 
One livelong night she prayed and wept, 
Then rose, as though in peace she slept. 
And shared the feast divine. 

That morn a countless subject throng 

Surged 'neath the sacred roof, 
For they had loved her well and long, 
And scorned the tale, so foully wrong. 
And blamed that cruel proof. 



The Ordeal of Queeii Emma. 45 i 

Ah! sad those hearts assembled there, 
All bowed in g-rief and gloom ; 

They sent for her the ceaseless prayer, 

From lighted altar still and fair, 
And Swithin's holy tomb. 

But forth she came, that lady blest, 

With heavenward-lifted head, 
And meek hands folded on her breast, 
As onward to the cruel test 

She walked with fearless tread. 

Not once her glances sought the floor, 

Her fiery path to see ; 
She crossed those burning ploughshares o'er, 
x\s though she trod a tranquil shore, 

Or dew-bespangled lea. 

Nor knew she when the bound was passed 

Until a wild acclaim, — 
Her people's joy, — uprose at last. 
All blent with fierce revilings cast 

On Godwin's hated name. 

Thus He whose arm upholds the right, 

On that dread pathway traced 
A track of pure, celestial light, 
A triumph-progress safe and bright, 

For England's lily chaste. 



THE SISTER OF MERCY'S CHANGE OF 

DRESS. 

" O SPOUSE of Christ and virgin bride of heaven ! 

Arise ! arise ! the Master calleth thee ! 
Put on the robes undimmed by earthly leaven, — 

The nuptial robes of immortality ! " 

Ah ! swift she speeds, that welcome call obeying, 
Beyond the golden portals of the East; 

And freshly clad in fadeless life's arraying. 

She meets the King, and shares the bridal feast. 

But the worn raiment whence her soul hath risen. 
The cast-off garb of earth's poor, fragile clay, 

Rests deeply hidden in its dreary prison, 

The " narrow home " of darkness and decay. 

Yet not for aye. That mortal robe forsaken 
Shall claim life's boon of beauty ever new. 

And to its spirit's dear embrace re-taken, 

Lo ! flower and stem shall gladden in Love's 
view. 

O willing heart that gave its pure oblations 
Of every throb to Love's sweet service blest ! 

O faithful hands, in mercy's ministrations 
For e'er unwearied, for a season rest ! 



The Confessional. 453 

O steadfast feet, the narrow pathway heeding! 

Rest till ye tread the fields of fadeless calm ; 
O voice once raised in pure and potent pleading ! 

Peace! thou shaft join in life's eternal psalm. 

Dear earth-companion of the bride of heaven ! 

Securely rest! the King shall summon thee ; 
Thou, too, shalt wear, unstained by mortal leaven, 

The nuptial robe of immortality. 



THE PRIEST'S FISHING-PLACE— THE 
CONFESSIONAL. 

In vain the weary fishers wrought 

Beside the shining sea : 
Still safely swam the prey they sought 

In depths of Galilee. 
A voice of strangest sweetness spoke, 

" Let down the net once more ! " 
And lo ! its laden tissues broke, 

O'erfraught with finny store. 
Spellboimd, that wondrous draught they saw, 

But sweetly rung again 
The voice that filled their souls with awe : 

" Be fishers, now, of men ! " 
They left their nets upon the shore, 

And, with their wondrous guide, 
They sought a new and nobler store 

In waters wild and wide. 



454 Beside the Western Sea. 

Ah ! who shall count their mystic prey, 

Their wondrous draught of souls, 
Where, 'neath the skies of gold or gray, 

The restless ocean rolls ? 
For, when they turned to needed rest 

Beside the " crystal sea," 
Lo ! others came, as fishers blest 

Of lost humanity. 
As through the vanished ages long, 

They toil unwearied yet. 
And ever glide the countless throng 

Within their sacred net. 
Ah ! blessed shelter on the shore, 

From whence the fisher's gaze 
Doth search the turbid waters o'er, 

E'en through their shrouding haze ! 
But not to death beside the sea, 

He dooms his mystic prey — 
In shining rivers, clear and free. 

He guides their gladsome way ; 
Far from the dark, envenomed tide, 

They sport in waters calm, — 
The flood that love hath purified, 

The life-stream of the Lamb ; 
So, cleansed from slime of guilt and woe 

By sweet absolving hand, 
Fit prizes they for waves that flow 

By heaven's shining strand. 
From monsters freed, and icy bond, 

Their endless life shall be 
Earth's ''upper sea" of clouds beyond, 

In glad eternity. 



THE ISLE OF SAINTS. 

I NEVER saw thy verdant plains, 

Sweet emerald of the sea ! 
I never heard the wondrous strains 

That tell thy song-birds' glee ; 
I ne'er inhaled the glad perfume, 

That cheers th}^ vernal day, 
Of hedges bright with hawthorn bloom. 

And meadows " white with May." 

No ; never o'er thy grassy turf 

Hath yet my footstep strayed, 
Nor where thy sands caress the surf. 

Have I in childhood played ; 
But Celtic blood is in my veins, 

Its faith within my heart, — 
And these are links of golden chains 

That naught can rend apart. 

A tender voice thy songs hath sung 

Unto my childish ear — 
The love that o'er my cradle hung, 

Hath made thy shore so dear ; 
Ay, one was born beyond the sea, 

Upon thy sacred strand, 
Who gave my heart its love for thee. 

My mother's native land ! 



45 6 Beside the IVestern, Sea. 

And 'twas not of thy bloom alone 

That gentle voice could sing-, 
Nor thrush's trill, nor blackbird's tone, 

That hail thy soft-eyed Spring ; 
Nor e'en thy royal grace of yore, 

Thy glorious ancient name, 
When sages learned thy matchless lore, 

And poets sung thy fame 

Before the iron hand of wrong, — 

The hand that holds thee now, — 
Could clasp thy chain of ages long, 

Or brand thy queenly brow : — 
Not these alone the lofty themes, 

The sounding, sweet refrain, 
Of poet's purest, proudest dreams, 

Of minstrel's noblest strain ; 

But the stately fane, or lowly shrine. 

The altars bright or bare. 
Where offered lies the Lamb divine, 

The '' clean oblation " fair ; 
The pauseless prayer, the ceaseless rite, 

The faith that faltered not 
Through sunny day or cloudless night. 

Though proud or low thy lot. 

O sweetest strains that bards could sing ! 

O scenes that love still paints ! 
The deathless echoes fondly ring 

Thy name, sweet Isle of Saints ! 



The Isle of Saints. 457 

Ay, sweeter than the sweetest strain 

Thy wildwood warbler knows, 
Is that one song, whose glad refrain 

In purest rhythm flows. 

And fairer than the fairest flower 

That decks thy dewy lea, 
And richer than the gems that dower 

Thy billow-crested sea, 
Are faith's uncounted blossoms bright, 

Whose sheen no blemish taints, — 
Its gems that shed their fadeless light 

Around thee, Isle of Saints ! 

The great apostle's deathless tame 

Resplendent shineth there ; 
There lives th}^ fragrant lily name, 

O Virgin of Kildare ! 
Fair Erin's saints, a bright array, 

Fill paradise with bloom ; 
O'er heavenly meadows, '' white with May," 

They shed a sweet perfume. 

By Celtic blood, my proudest boast, 

By Celtic faith, I claim 
Sweet kinship to that countless host, 

Blest triumph in their fame ; 
And while I clasp, in fond caress, 

A mother's gentle hand. 
My grateful heart shall fondly bless 

That mother's native land. 



45 8 Beside the Western Sea. 

Sweet Innisfail ! thou jewel set, 

Where sunlit billows glow, 
For ever fairer, dearer yet. 

To me thy name shall grow ! 
And may my glance be turned to thee, 

If faith or courage faints, 
To learn thy love and loyalty, 

O blessed Isle of Saints ! 



THE PURIFICATION. 

Judea's royal city wore 

The robes that suit a queen : 
Auroral purple, studded o'er 

With gems of dewy sheen. 
The mist-veil, from her brow unrolled, 

Above it lingered yet, 
Still jealous of the sunlight's gold, 

Her morning coronet. 
How fair, beneath that shining crown, 

Her stately towers gleamed ! 
How free, her palace walls adown. 

The flood of glory streamed ! 
Like radiance from Jehovah's throne, 

In prophet's vision caught, 
Its smile upon her temple shone, 

With heaven's own gladness fraught. 



The Purification. 459 

On that fair city's queenly state, 

Exceeding psalmist's praise, 
Two pilgrims, pausing at her gate, 

Fixed long, enraptured gaze ; 
And fondly, on the temple's walls. 

That look ecstatic stayed, 
As through its loved and sacred walls 

Their eager longings strayed. 
But while they wandered, faint and lone, 

Along the wak'ning street, 
A new and wondrous glory shone. 
Where passed their weary feet: 
The shining temple of their God 

Waxed fairer as they came. 
And while its outer court they trod, 

High leaped the altar-flame ; 
The priest arrayed for holy rite. 
Awe-stricken, veiled his face. 
For Sinai's flood of living light 

Filled all the holy place. 
The pilgrims, meekly waiting, stand 

Before the sacred veil : 
An aged man, with staff in hand, 

A maiden, faint and pale. 
Yet on her brow, serenely fair, 
A matchless splendor shone, 
As though all brightness lingered there, 

Upon its fitting throne. 
Clasped by her arm, in fond embrace, 

A lovely infant smiled, — 
The light that crowned the maiden's face 
With glory robed the child. 



460 Beside the Western Sea. 

With visage rapt, and footstep slow, 

Forth came the priest of God, 
And, dazzled by that mystic glow, 

The shining court he trod. 
The maiden's doves, of stainless white, 

As in a dream, he took — 
What radiant vision met his sight? 

What spell enchained his look? 
Ah, favored sight ! ah, wondrous scene ! 

Jehovah's servant saw 
The Mother-Maid, the sinless Queen, 

Fulfilling holy law. 
The King of kings upon him smiled, 

His God before him lay, — 
His hidden Lord, a seeming child, 

His Saviour, shrined in clay ! 
O royal virgin ! spotless dove ! 

The law was not for thee : 
No gleam of seraph wing above 

Could match thy purity. 
Yet be our model : foulest stains 

Bedim our drooping wings, 
The serpent's slimy trace remains, 

The searing venom clings. 
Teach thine obedience : bid us bring, 

Fulfilling heaven's law. 
The contrite spirit's offering. 

Bowed low in grief and awe. 
Be thou our dove of peace divine, 

Our messenger of grace, 
And on the temple's holy shrine 

Our humble tributes place ; 



Saint Rose of Lima, 461 

And, while its inner portal fair 

Is opened free and wide, 
Its altar-flame of glory bear 

To spirits purified. 



SAINT ROSE OF LIMA. 

Thou hast rare and regal dower, 

O fair Peruvian land ! 
A boundless wealth of fruit and flower, 

From Nature's partial hand ; 
And thine is one transcendent gem — 

One pure and peerless rose, 
The fairest crown of mortal stem, 

In thee its dwelling chose, — 
Rare daughter of a radiant clime. 

Bright blossom of the West, 
Glad starbeam of our gloomy time. 

Queen Rose of Lima blest. 
Columbia's saint ! her very own ! 

The New World's favored child ! 
Our gem, enshrined beside the throne, 

'' First flow'ret of the wild." 
O wondrous life ! O matchless bloom, 

From heaven's glory caught ! 
O ceaseless tribute of perfume, 

With pure aroma fraught ! 



.62 Beside the Western Sea, 

The worship of a stainless heart, 

A fair, embellished shrine, 
Grace-guarded, kept from earth apart, 

Fit home of love divine ! 
Meet votary of Sharon's Rose ! 

To thee, pure flower, was given 
Sweet semblance of each charm that glows 

In that bright Queen of Heaven. 
A love unsullied bade thee bow 

At Mary's holy shrine, 
And on her statue's shining brow 

Thy garden's gifts entwine. 
Loved Rose of Lima ! while we bend 

Before our Lady's throne, 
To our frail, fading tributes lend 

The grace that decked thy own. 
For lifted heart and humble head 

Win blessings from above, 
And o'er our scentless off 'rings shed 

The fragrance of thy love; 
And so, each fair, immortal flower. 

Transplanted from the sod. 
Shall bloom, with thee, in fadeless bower, 

The garden of our God. 



''MY ROME IS IN YOUR HEARTS." 

[ These words occur in the address of the Holy Father, on the occasion 
of the fiftieth anniversary of his ordination.] • 

Ring, blessed words, that wake ecstatic thrill ! 

O faithful hearts, behold your father's Rome, — 
His city, throned on faith's eternal hills, 

And crowned bv truth's illimitable dome! 

Ay, loyal hearts, that own his gentle sway ! 

Ye are the Rome wherein he deigns to dwell; 
His towers, that rise o'er virtue's *' Sacred Way," 

His walls of strength, his rock-built citadel. 

There glows his land of fadeless summer skies, 

A smiling Italy of grace divine ; 
There vast basilicas in splendor rise, 

And love illumes full many a garnished shrine. 

Ay, there, perchance, the Pantheons of pride, 
The ancient homes of passion's gods of clay. 

Their idols rent, their foulness purified, 

To conquering truth a ceaseless homage pay ; 

Or, sadly fair, in memory's moonlight glow, 
Of conflicts past the moss-grown ruins tell, — 

Proud Coliseums of '* the long ago," 

Where martyred hopes on dread arenas fell. 



464 Beside the Western Sea. 

Immortal Rome, fair realm of faithful souls ! 

Eternal city ! 'neath whose turrets tall 
Time's Tiber-stream still mirrors, as it rolls, 

The fadeless cross that crowns thy living wall. 

O world-wide kingdom ! limitless domain ! 

Love's mighty conquest, fettered, and yet free ! 
A willing captive, bound in blissful chain ! 

A sovereign, robed in peerless majesty ! 

From Arctic snows to isles of tropic balm, 

From India, throned beneath her banyan's shade, 

To Alpine vales, that smile in sunlit calm, 
'Neath sternest peaks, in icy mail arrayed ; 

Where myrtles gleam in fair Italian bowers, 

Where shamrocks weep on Erin's verdant breast, 

Where proud Columbia weaves her robe of flowers. 
And woos the stars to gem her golden crest, — 

Wherever throbs a loyal, loving heart, 
Wherever truth has decked a spirit-home. 

There faith's bright realm must claim her royal part, 
There is our father's blest, eternal Rome. 

O constant realm, in sunshine or in storm, 
Enrobed in bliss, or clad in clinging woes ! 

Your love shall shrine o?te patriarchal form, 
Your strength still be his refuge and repose. 

Nor traitor's arts, nor fierce, barbaric swords, 
City of God ! can bid that strength depart. 

While o'er the ranks of wild, invading hordes 
Your watchword rings, '' His Rome is in each 
heart." 



THE BAPTISM OF OUR LORD. 

O'er all the fair Judean land 

A golden brightness lay, 
And golden halos glorified 

The mountain's veil of gray ; 
So shone the feathery cedar spires 

On Lebanon's lofty brow ; 
Like fingers formed of living flame, 

Seemed every fragrant bough. 
A deeper glow on Sharon's rose 

Showed in each velvet fold, 
And e'en "the hyssop by the wall" 

Put on a crown of gold ; 
And Jordan's wavelets gayly flung 

Their wreaths of silver spray. 
And danced, with soft and ceaseless tune, 

Along their shining way. 
Why gathers now a silent throng 

By that bright river's side ? 
What hushes childhood's merry song, 

And manhood's voice of pride ? 
See'st thou that form so strangely clad, 

In robe of camel's skin ? 
That brow, unmarked by worldly care, 

Undimmed by shade of sin ? 
'Tis he, the '' witness sent by God," 

Precursor of the light. 
Whose footsteps, on the mountain tops. 

Announce the end of night. 



466 Beside the Western Sea. 

He speaks. To catch those magic tones 

The crowd, impatient, press ; 
Lo ! this the " voice of one who cries 

Within the wilderness:" 
** O Pharisee I who taught thy foot 

From heaven's wrath to flee ? 
The axe is gleaming at the root, 

Low Ues the barren tree ; 
Make straight the crooked paths ! behold 

The kino^dom is at hand ! 
The glory of its midday sun, 

Shall flood the darkened land. 
The Monarch comes ! bend, brows of pride ! 

Before His searching eye, — 
The Monarch comes, whose sandal shoon 

I dare not e'en untie." 
As struck by Sinai's lightning flash, 

The trembling hearers fall, 
And wond'ring awe and shrinking fear 

Hold ev'ry heart in thrall. 
Slowly they lift the dazzled glance — 

Whose that new, kingly face, 
That brow of regal majesty. 

That form of Godlike grace ? 
O favored waters ! softly sing 

Your grateful gladness now, 
Ye fall in blest baptismal-rain 

Upon a sinless brow ; 
Ye mirror in your shining depths 

The op'ning heavens above. 
From out whose glory gently floats 

The snowy-pinioned dove. 



The Angelus. 467 

O sacred river ! well art thou 

The poet's purest theme, 
And well thy crystal waves may flow 

Through many a holy dream. 
O earth may boast of bolder streams, 

Of waters deep and vast, 
Upon whose flood the haughty pomp 

Of victors proud hath passed ; 
But thou, — upon thy sacred banks 

The King of kings hath trod ; 
Thy waters laved, in tender tide, 

Thy Maker and thy God ! 



THE ANGELUS. 

Night sendeth her shadowy heralds 
Abroad over valley and hill, 

And in the great heart of the city 
The pulses of labor are still. 

And while o'er the toil-burdened spirit 
Peace broodeth, a heaven-sent dove, 

Sweet, silvery voices are telling 
The mystical story of love ; 

And as the soft melody stealeth 
Afar through the tremulous air. 

What visions seraphic are wakened 
By magical murmurs of prayer! 



468 Beside the Western Sea. 

" The angel declared unto Mary " — 
Joy, joy for the sin-tainted race ! 

A rose of the desert is worthy 

To bear the bright blossom of grace. 

** Thy handmaid, O Lord, behold me ! 

I bow to Thy word and Thy will : " 
List, earth, to the answer submissive, 

That bids thee with ecstasy thrill. 

** The Word was. made flesh ! " and among us 
The treasure of heaven lav hid ; 

Love dwelt where the lily was blooming 
The thorns of the desert amid. 

O mortals ! when shadowy heralds 
Are gliding o'er valley and hill, 

And in the vast heart of the city 
The panting pulsation is still ; 

When softly, o'er thoroughfares crowded, 
And through the lone forest-retreat, 

The sweet silver tones of the belfry 
The message of mercy repeat, — 

Bow down while the voice of the angel 
Is filling the peace-haunted air, 

And waft the pure breath of thanksgiving 
In murmured and rapturous prayer. 

" Hail ! full of all grace ! " among Avomen 
The favored, the spotless, the blest ! 

Hail, star of the Eastern aurora ! 

Hail, daybeam and light of the West! 



The American Pilgrimage. 469 

Thus echo the greeting angelic, 

And bid the vast centuries ring 
With praise of the meek Maiden-Mother, 

And joy for the birth of the King. 



THE AMERICAN PILGRIMAGE. 

Proud fleets have swept o'er the sounding sea, 

That echoed their paeans of victory, 

And conquering legions have trod the vale, 

With banners that streamed on the sportive gale ; 

And throngs yet bend in the minster's gloom, 

At the royal grave and the stately tomb, 

And countless votaries bow beside 

The shrines of pleasure, and pomp, and pride ; 

But a ship speeds now o'er the sounding main, 

With a goodlier freight than the victor train, 

And a host shall march o'er a foreign land 

In fairer pomp than the conquering band. 

But they bring no gifts to a worldly shrine. 

No voice of homage, no wreaths to twine 

Where the mouldering relics of great ones hide 

In the mausoleum of mocking pride. 

The echoes that sound throusfh the ocean caves. 

And the strains that float o'er the crested waves. 

And the sweet-toned hymn, and the pleading pra3'er 

Of the pilgrim multitude gathered there. 

In the bark that speeds on her sacred flight, 

In the. bark so hallowed by holy rite. 



470 Beside the ] Vest em Sea. 

That beareth, over the sounding sea, 

The tempest-Ruler of GaUlee, — 

And the hymn shall sound on the distant strand, 

And the prayer arise in the stranger land, 

When that host shall march on a peaceful way 

To the founts that gleam in the desert gray : 

To Paray-le-Monial, lone, apart, 

The fitting home of the Sacred Heart; 

To the fair Bethsaida, that floweth yet 

In the wonderful grotto of Bernadette, 

Where the penance-hour of France secured 

The paradise-glory of lowl}^ Lourdes. 

Then onward ! onward ! to royal Rome, 

To the sheltering arch of her sacred dome ; 

To kneel in that glorious minster's gloom. 

At the mitred fisherman's wondrous tomb. 

To sink and to weep on the fruitful sod, 

Where the crimson steps of the martyrs trod, 

And the eager homage of love to bring 

To the rock-built throne of the Pontiff-King. 

To thrill at the glance of that beaming eye, 

And to wish in the light of its look to die, 

And to bear for ever the benison bland 

Of Pio Nono's paternal hand. 

And to feel that no fettering chains can fling 

Their binding spell o'er the world wide king ; 

That the " Vatican prisoner's" mystic reign, — 

No tyrannv checketh, no bonds restrain; 

And no strength can move, and no arm can cast 

That form from its throne in the Rock made fast. 

O beautiful path of the pilgrim band ! 

O march of triumph o'er wave and land ! 



The B7vwn Scapular. 471 

O scenes of splendor for faith to see ! 
O worthiest shrines for the bended knee ! 
God speed ye, the favored, the true, the blest, 
O'er the toilsome road and the billow's crest ! 
God hear your voices of pleading prayer ! 
May He send the doves of His peace so fair, 
By your faithful hands, o'er the waters dark 
That long have threatened His holy ark, 
To tell that the deluge of wrong is o'er, 
And the calm endureth for evermore. 



THE BROWN SCAPULAR. 

Blessed badge of service sweet, 

Livery of a sov'reign fair, 
Sign of fealty complete, 

Pledge of fond maternal care ! 
Dear to me thy fabric coarse, 

Fairer far thy hue of brown 
Than the rays of rainbow source, 

Prisoned in a jewelled crown. 
With the sacred scenes of yore 

Thou dost gift my spirit's view, — 
Dreams of royal robes that bore 

E'en tJiy texture and tJiy hue. 
Dreams of Nazareth, — Eden fair, 

Home wherein the holy three 
Dwelt afar from worldly care, 

In a sweet obscurity ; 



4/2 Beside the Western Sea. 

There, beside her cottage door, 

Clad in woollen raiment dun, 
Mary, spinning-, pondered o'er 

Every saying of her Son. 
Scapular of Carmel blest ! 
■ Wakened by thy mystic name, 

Visions rise of verdant crest, 

Crowned with ring of holy flame. 
Carmel's Mount ! whereon abode 

One whose pure, prophetic gaze 
Saw, at midnight, skies that glowed 

With the wondrous morning blaze. 
Now, to faith's illumined age 

Floats my soul in dreams adown. 
And I see the saintly sage 

Clad in coarsest robe of brown,^ 
Holy Simon ! 'Mid his prayer 

Shines a sweet, ecstatic scene : 
Lo ! the Maiden-Mother fair ! 

Lo ! the bright, celestial Queen ! 
See ! w^ithin her shining hand, 

Carmel's scapular of brown ! 
Hark ! she decks her sweet command 

With a blissful promise-crown: 
*' Give this pledge of peace divine 

To my subjects fond and true. 
Bid them wear mv service-sisrn, 

Coarse of texture, brown of hue, 
For a matchless boon it bears, — 

'Tis my promise, made to thee, — 
Who this badge devoutly wears. 

With the blest his lot shall be." 



The Rock of Saint Peter. 473 

Sweetest promise ! peerless boon ! 

Let me read its meaning right ; 
Let me ne'er its truth impugn, 

Let me ne'er its treasure slight. 
Of the badge of service blest 

Faithful bearer must I be, 
On an ever-lojal breast 

Wearing that sweet livery. 
Thus the promise shall not fail, 

Thus the treasure shall be mine, — 
Crown of light that ne*er can pale. 

Royal robe of peace divine. 



THE ROCK OF SAINT PETER. 

Thus spake the builder, strong and wise 
" Upon this rock my Church shall rise, 
And hellish might shall ne'er prevail. 
Though all its demon hosts assail." 
Swift, at His word, the temple rose 
That still in primal splendor glow's ; 
Age after age the tempest's shock 
Assails that strong foundation-rock, 
And billows rush, in wildest race. 
Against its adamantine base ; 
But firmly, through the fiercest storm. 
That Rock uprears its mighty form, 
And backward e'er, with sullen sigh, 
The baffled billows sink and die. 



474 Beside the Western Sea. 

Those wondrous walls were guarded well 

By many a mail-clad sentinel ; 

Throughout the warring ages long 

They stood, a bright, undaunted throng. 

As each was summoned from his post, 

Then rose from faith's uncounted host 

His swift successor, firm and brave, 

To check the mad, besieging wave, 

To scorn the tempest's mighty shock, 

And hurl, from truth's eternal rock, 

His arrow's sure, supernal blovv^s 

Against the fierce, invading foes, — 

The demon hosts tha.t madly dare 

To crush the temple builded there. 

So stands a watchful warder now, 

With tranquil eye and dauntless brow: 

Behold him on his rock-built throne, 

Uncheered, unaided, and alone! 

Yet wond'ring earth hath ne'er, I ween. 

Beheld so proud, so grand a scene. 

As that calm face and lofty form 

Serenely throned amid the storm ; 

Unmoved, unharmed, though fierce the fight 

Against his rock's cross-crested height. 

O valiant Pius ! thine shall be 

A sure, supernal victory. 

Again, as in the strifes of yore. 

The baftied waves, with sullen roar, 

Shall backward sink, and, murm'ring, die 

Beneath thy throne secure and high. 

Again the demon foe shall learn 

How true the Builder's promise stern : 



The Newly Baptized. 475 

** That hellish might shall ne'er prevail, 
Though all its countless hosts assail, 
With flaming dart and tempest-shock. 
His Church, enthroned on Peter's rock." 



THE NEWLY BAPTIZED. 

O EARTH hath still a shining store 

Of rare and lovely things, 
Around whose peerlessness once more 

Sweet trace of Eden clings : 

Fresh flowers, upon whose beauty lies 

Full many an emblem fair 
Of graces dear to angel eyes, — 

Bright gifts for souls to wear ; 

Rare gems that light the gloomy mine, 

And deck the lonely sea ; 
Rich tints that in the sunset shine 

With heaven's own brilliancy; 

Gay birds, upon whose plumage gleams 

All wealth of rainbow dyes, 
And countless stars, whose silv'ry beams 

Are set in clearest skies. 

But fairer than the fairest flower 

That decks the sunlit lea, 
And rarer than the gems that dower 

Dark mine and depthless sea ; 



47^ Beside the Westerji Sea. 

Richer than cloudland's hues of light, 
Brighter than birds' array, 

Purer than beams that cheer the night. 
Or robe the summer's day, — 

Ay, lovelier than all lovely things 

Is that unearthly grace 
That shines, like gleam of angel wings, 

Upon an infant's face. 

When the fair soul enshrined within. 
Heaven's own immortal flower, 

Is cleansed from stain of primal sin 
By blest baptismal power. 

O wondrous privilege to hold 
That flower in fond embrace. 

And its new glory to behold 
Upon the tranquil face ! 

But holier duty 'tis to guard 

Its fair, transcendent ray, 
And keep the ceaseless watch and ward 

About it, day by day. 

Ay, Christian mother, dost thou know 

Thy holy task of love "^ 
To own that living gem below 

Which angels guard above ; 

To treasure, with true tenderness, 
For thy dear Master's sake, 

A lamb like those He deigned to bless. 
And in His arms to take ; 



Our Village. 477 

To keep, with earnest, fondest care, 

That soul from stains that dim. 
And safe, from worldly guile and snare, 

To lead it up to him. 



OUR VILLAGE. 

As a child, with soft hands folded, 

Closes, half, its azure eyes. 
Droops a brow, divinely moulded, 

And in rosy slumber lies ; 
So our village, lulled by humming 

Of the dull and drowsy mill. 
Soothed with scents from flowers coming, 

Rests in dreams beside the hill. 

Waked not by ttfe brooklet's rhyming, 

Or the robin's matin song, 
Only soothed by vesper chiming, 

Borne by echoing breeze along ; 
Softly low the sleepy cattle, * 

Bathing in the limpid stream — 
E'en the merry infant's prattle 

Is as music in a dream. 

Softly through the purple gloaming 
Floats the song of night's sweet bird, 

While through forests, wildly roaming, 
Storms like far-off sighs are heard ; 



47B Beside the Western Sea, 

Quietly the wheel is turning, 

Turning at the cottage door, 
While the hearth-flame, dimly burning, 

Sheds its dream-hght on the floor. 

Thus a silence e'er is brooding 

O'er our village like a spell, 
And the golden sunlight flooding 

Pleasant porch and mossy dell, 
Only makes the stillness deeper. 

Deeper and more holy seem, 
As a smile on face of sleeper 

Tells but of a quiet dream. 

Blessed hamlet ! in thy shadow 

It is good for man to dwell, 
Breathing fragrance from thy meadow, 

Music from thy vesper bell ; 
Leading, as in good times olden. 

Holy lives till life's sweet even, 
Then, through flowers'and sunlight golden, 

Passing calmly up to heaven. 



THE ROYAL CATECHIST * 

Gone was the light of glory's day, 

And, from his throne of greatness hurled, 

Within the gloom of exile lay 
The fallen master of a world. 

This rash Prometheus, who stole 

Heaven's fire to light his visions vain, 

Rock-fettered, felt within his soul 
The vulture-fangs of ceaseless pain ; 

Yet blessed are the shafts that smite 
The daring souls that rashly soar, 

For wisdom's radiance cheers the night, 
When glory's lurid day is o'er; 

And in its clear, unfading ray. 

How pales the tinsel glare of pride 

That decked the gods of worthless clay, — 

The phantoms man hath deified ! 
* * -x- * * * * 

* When Napoleon I was banished to St. Helena, the little daughter 
of one of his officers shared, with her father, the royal exile's captivity. 
'* My child," said Napoleon to her, "you must begin to prepare for 
your first Communion. I will teach you your Catechism." Accord- 
ingly he devoted a portion of each day to the religious instruction of a 
simple child; and when a priest was sent from Europe to give the last 
rites of the Church to the dying emperor, his youthful disciple received 
the Bread of Life, for the first time, from the same hand that adminis- 
tered tlie Sacred Viaticum to her royal instructor. 



480 Beside the Western Sea. 

On lone Helena's desert soil 

The victor's noblest deed was done ; 

His battle-tumult's ghastly toil 

Such conquest rare had never won. 

On that bleak shore one flow'ret smiled, 
One golden sunbeam cheered its gloom. 

His faithful soldier's gentle child 
Adorned the captive's living tomb. 

That royal captive, day by day. 

Watched the fair spirit's bloom unfold ; 

He turned its gaze on truth's bright ray, 
And showed religion's wealth untold. 

He who had filled a world with awe. 
And ruled its realms with kingly rod, 

Deigned to interpret heaven's law. 
And win a child's pure soul for God. 

Heaven sent its peace, serene and fair, 
And his crushed spirit found a balm 

When thus it decked a soul to share 
The nuptial-banquet of the Lamb. 

And when religion sent her priest 
To soothe his parting spirit's strife. 

His pupil shared her master's feast, — 
Her first, his last, pure Bread of Life. 



DEATH OF TASSO* 

The royal day is dawning, 

The regal prize is won, 
Italia's grateful homage 

Awaits her gifted son ; - 

The laurel crown is woven, 

To deck his kingly brow — 
Why stays the child of genius ? 

Why waits the poet now? 
This matchless morn of triumpb, — 

Ah ! long its magic gleam 
Played o'er his dreary pathway, 

In many a fairy dream ; 
And ceaselessly he followed 

Its false and fleeting light, 
That danced, like mocking phantom, 

Before his longing sight. 
The weary race is ended, 

The phantom flies no more, 
And glory's noonday splendors 

Upon his spirit pour. 
Fame's eager hand is ready 

To crown her vot'ry's brow — 

* Tasso was invited to Rome to receive the laurel crown, but shortly 
before his coronation he was seized with his last illness. He retired to 
the monastery of Onofrio, to prepare for death. When one of the monks 
sought to cheer him, by describing the triumph thart awaited him at 
the Capitol, he replied: "O vapor called glory! I feel too well to-day 
that on earth all is vanity, but to love and serve God." 



482 Beside the Western Sea. 

Why lingers favored Tasso ? 

Why stays the poet now ? 
Too late his crown is woven, 

Too late the willing throng, 
With loud applauses, hail him 

The sovereign of song. 
Death weaves a crown of cypress 

To deck his noble brow, 
Death's solemn mandate husheth 

Life's tardy homage now. 
His sad and toilsome journey 

Hath reached its welcome close, 
And in the peaceful cloister 

The pilgrim seeks repose. 
To rouse his fainting spirit, 

The}' tell of vain renown, — 
The morrow's matchless glory, 

Its fair triumphal-crown. 
** Nay, cease thy tale of splendor," 

The dying poet cried, 
" Nor mock the parting spirit 

With worldly pomp and pride. 
O vanity of glor}^ ! 

O phantoms that betray ! 
Too long my soul hath worshipped 

A god of worthless clay. 
The festal robe for Tasso ! 

He seeks the winding-sheet ; 
The poet's wreath he tramples 

Beneath his dying feet. 
Whom would ye crown with laurel? 

The mould'ring prey of death ? 



Death of l^asso. 483 

The odor of the charnel-house 

Would mock your incense-breath. 
Away with worldly greatness, 

The fleeting and the vain ! 
O earth ! the love of heaven 

Alone is worth thy pain. 
The worship of a Saviour, 

The service of His cross, — • 
This, this, is all of value 

Amid thy shining dross. 
Sweet Faith ! thy words of pardon, 

Thy potent voice of prayer, — 
They are my car of triumph 

To heaven's kingdom fair ! 
To heaven's fadeless Capitol 

My parting soul they bear, 
Bedecked, not as a poet, 

With crowns that time can taint. 
But wreathed with light immortal, 

The chaplet of a saint." 
He clasped redemption's symbol: 

'* O Father! unto Thee 
I give m}^ trustmg spirit " — 

The weary soul was free ! 
The royal day hath risen 

The regal prize is won, 
No need of earthly glory 

To crown Italia's son ; 
Heaven's amaranthine garland 

Adorns his kingly brow — 
In heaven's " Eternal City " 

The poet reigneth now. 



THE MARTYRS OF SANDOMIR. 

[A Legend of the Salve Regina.] 

Salve Regina ! sweetest words that Christian lips 

can sing ! 
For, clearer than the soaring birds, thy tender 

echoes ring. 
Through all the past's pure atmosphere, to later 

ages down. 
Recording, in each accent clear, a martyr's blest 

renown. 
They tell of Sadoc's holy band, who came with 

footsteps fleet, 
To bring unto the Polish land salvation's tidings 

sweet, 
Who dwelt within their cloister calm, and craved 

no gift beside. 
Save this, the martyr's mystic palm, and vesture 

crimson dyed. 

The first sweet day of smiling June was gliding to 

the West, 
The warbling bird had ceased his tune, and sought 

his leafy nest. 



The Martyrs of Saiidaniir. 485 

And, gathered in their Eden-home, the monks gave 

wiUing ear 
To one who read, from holy tome, the list of martyrs 

dear. 
Why changed that clear and quiet voice to awesome 

murmur soon ? 
He read — O eager band, rejoice ! — " The second day 

of June" 
( At dawning of the morrow's sun, within that 

very year ! ) 
The nine and forty martyrs won their crown at 

Sandomir, — 
At Sandomir, 'twas their abode, and 'twas their 

record fair. 
For never martyr's blood had flowed to bless the 

vineyard there. 
" Tis heaven's message sent to us," the holy Sadoc 

said, 
''An angel's hand hath written thus the warning 

thou hast read." 
Submissive to that summons sweet, for combat to 

prepare, 
They sought their hidden God's retreat, and knelt 

in vigil there ; 
And when the herald beams of light unbarred the 

golden East, 
They decked the shrine for holy rite, and shared 

the nuptial feast. 
And while the soft auroral sun stole through the 

arches dim. 
The soldiers of the cross begun their ne'er omitted 

hy m n : 



4^6 Beside the Western Sea. 

" Salve Regina ! " thus they sung, but, at its op'ning 
strain. 

What wild, discordant tumult rung, in mock'ry of 
refrain ? 

Rejoice, ye soldiers of the Lamb ! the glad release 
is nigh, 

And yours is now the martyr's palm, the robe ol 
royal dye. 

In rushed the ruthless Tartar horde, with wild, 
demoniac yell. 

And calmly, 'neath the savage sword, those Chris- 
tian heroes fell. 

Nor ceased their holy Salve strain, for, as each voice 
grew still, 

Another rung the blest refrain, vvith glad, ecstatic 
thrill; 

And with the swiftly-flowing blood, the heaven- 
ward-floating breath, 

That music poured its pulsing flood upon the place 
of death. 

And when, save one, that martyr-throng had passed 
the crimson sea. 

One voice completed, clear and strong, the won- 
drous melody : 

It was the dauntless leader's tone that last and 
longest rose, 

That bore the sacred prayer, alone, unto its tender 
close. 

'' O dulcis Virgo ! " thus he sung, and, with that 
latest breath. 

His freed, exultant spirit sprung beyond the gates 
of death. 



Lilies and Mignonette. 487 

** Salve Regina !" sweetest hymn that Christian hps 

can sing, 
How grandly through the ages dim thy tender 

echoes ring ! 
How sweetly, gladly, waft they down, in tuneful 

numbers clear, 
This golden legend of the crown bestowed at 

Sandomir ! 



LILIES AND MIGNONETTE. 

Behold the fair flower beloved by our Lord, 

More rich than the raiment of kings ! 
The balmiest dew in its chalice is poured, 

'Tis the hue of an angel's white wings. 
The sweet, stainless lily ! deep, deep in her breast, 

Lies the type of a virtue as fair. 
Ah, Purity ! when in a soul thou dost rest. 

Then heaven's best beauty is there. 

And lovely, in truth, is the meek mignonette, 

Though low in the valley it lies ; 
Though tiny its delicate petals, ah I yet 

How sweetly its odors arise ! 
Humility thus all her graces would hide. 

But, deep in her heart though they lie. 
There's a fragrance diffusing on every side, 

And ascending, like incense, on high. 



488 Beside the Western Sea. 

O daughter of earth I be this loveUness thine, 

In the day of life's beauty and bloom ; 
Be thy heart's chalice filled with aroma divine, 

With piety's fadeless perfume ! 
So Israel's lily shone royally fair, 

Though hidden and lowly her place. 
And o'er earth's drear desert of sin and of care 

She shed heayen's odor of grace. 

Like hers be thy lot with the meek mignonette — 

'Tis maidenhood's loveliest part; 
And far from the worldlings' false glitter, ah ! yet 

Rare graces shall gleam in thy heart. 
And bright with the hue of the angels' white wings. 

Thy life shall be gathered at eyen, 
To bloom evermore where the tree of life flings 

Its luminous shadow o'er heaven. 



SAINT FRANCIS BORGIA BEFORE THE 

REMAINS OF THE EMPRESS 

ISABELLA.* 

Is this thy work, O death ? 
The regal mien, the fair majestic face, 
The cheek's rich glow, the smile of matchless grace, 

Gone with the fleeting breath ? 

Ruler of kings art thou ! 
Stamped with thy seal, the marble turns to clay ; 
At thy dread touch life's radiance fades away 

From lip, and eye, and brow. 

And thou hast stricken down 
The hand that late a royal sceptre bore,— 
The queenly head that with such fitness wore 

Earth's proudest, brightest crown. 

* The Saint, then Duke of Gandia, was deputed by Charles V, King 
of Spain, to accompany the remains of the Empress to the royal l)urial- 
place, in Granada. In accordance with a required ceremony, he was 
obliged to identify the body, previous to its interment. On open- 
ing the coffin, the remains were found to be greatly disfigured by 
decomposition. St. Francis was struck with horror at the loathsome 
and sudden change in the features, lately so beautiful, of this once cher- 
ished sovereign. His reflections on the transitory nature of earthly 
things, occasioned by this spectacle, led him to renounce all worldly 
grandeur, and to serve an eternal and imperishable King, in the Society 
uf Jesus 



490 Beside the Western Sea. 

E'en as a dream, I see 
A courtly throng, a stately palace-hall, 
With floating banners, blazoned arms, and all 

The pomp of royalty ; 

And, brightly ruling there, 
A gracious presence on a loit}^ throne,— 
One peerless sov'reign 'mid that splendor shone 

Preeminently fair. 

And princely heads were bowed, 
The courtier fawned, the high-born haughty dame, 
The valiant knight, the wily statesman, came, 

x\nd endless fealty bowed. 

The glittering dream is past. 
That pageant proud, that grand and goodly show,— 
Oh ! was it false — a vain ephemeral glow, 

That would not, could not, last? 

Ay, mortals, this is all — 
A mass of clav, a cold and silent form : 
Death's mould'ring prize, foul banquet for the worm, 

Beneath a sable pall. 

Away, then^ earthly state ! 
I vow new homage to a worthy King : 
My tardy tribute to Thy throne I bring, 

O Monarch truly great ! 

Thy glory can not fade. 
Thy reign is endless ; on Thy kingly brow 
The starry crown shall gleam, undimmed, as now, 

When earthly pomp is laid . . 



Advent. 49! 

Low in the dust ; when all 
This varied scene, this bright and busy world, 
Back to its chaos by Thy mandate hurled, 

In nothingness shall fall. 

Let me Thy courtier be : 
Thy faithful steward, while this life shall last ; 
A white-robed prince, when earthly toils are past, 

Co-heir of heaven with Thee. 



ADVENT. 

O MOURNING earth, unveil thy brow ! 

Thine Eden joy befits thee now. 

Hence, phantoms dark, and shadows drear I 

Redemption's rosy dawn is n-ear ; 

The beams of love, the dews of grace, 

Shed gladness o'er each desert-place. 

O happy month ! thy snowy wing 

The long-expected boon shall bring; 

Thy skies reveal the golden gleam. 

The light of blest, prophetic dream. 

The strain whose far-off echo stole, 

In rapture, o'er the Psalmist's soul, — 

Its matchless melody shall thrill 

Thy starry midnight, lone and still. 

And humble hearts, entranced, shall hear 

Celestial voices, glad and clear, — 

Shall catch the gleam of pinions fair, 

Adown the angels' shining stair, 

And bow where seraphs watch above 

The lowly hiding-place of Love ; 



492 Beside the Western Sea. 

And hail, illumed with heavenly ray, 
A God enshrined in human clay ! 
O Christian hearts ! what rapture waits 
At blest December's cloudy gates ! 
What halo-flame, what magic glow. 
Transfigures wintry wastes of snow ! 
Yet pure and clear the glance must be 
That would such Christmas glory see. 
No blighting stain may dim the brow 
That seeks beside Love's crib to bow, 
And humble hearts alone can share 
The peace that fills the Christmas air ; 
Alone can deck a worthy shrine. 
For benisons of grace divine, 
, The lustre of the wondrous gem 
That shone in lowly Bethlehem. 
A sinless mother watched His rest, 
A '' jiist man" was His guardian blest. 
And blameless shepherds bent the knee 
Before the Lord of purity. 
Ah ! ye who would their treasure win, 
Put off the purple robes of sin. 
And, clad anew in nuptial white, 
Receive the radiant Christmas light ! 
Let no discordant note destroy . 
The carol of your Christmas joy ! 
So shall responsive strains prolong 
The music of the seraph song ; 
So shall the promised peace be shed 
On hearts by love to Bethlehem led, — 
On hearts that breathe the bliss of earth, 
Tf.c jov that hails a Saviour's bii'th. 



AN OFFERING TO JESUS, MARY, AND 

JOSEPH. 

What shall I offer ye, glorious three ? 

Gold from the mountain, or pearls from the sea ? 

Jewels that rival the morning's glad beams. 

Torn from earth's caverns, or won from her streams ? 

Spices of Araby , rarest perfume. 

Wafted from islands of tropical bloom ? 

Poor are thy treasures, O earth! unto Him, 

To the ^' light of whose glory the stars are dim ; " 

And faint is the breath of thy balmiest bowers 

To the odors that rise from His amaranth flowers, — 

The fragrance unfading of blossoms that grow 

Where heaven's "still waters" unceasingly flow. 

Rich were the off'erings, borne from afar. 

When, 'neath the light of the mystical star, 

Kings from the jewelled and radiant East, 

Came to the hovel ye shared with the beast. 

Offered their treasures, and humbled the knee, 

Low in your stable, O wonderful three ! 

Then were ye hidden in lowly disguise. 

Then might earth give her ephemeral prize : 

Now, to the riches of heaven, can she 

Add from her baubles, all bright though they be ? 

What shall / ofler ye ? what can / bring, 

Meet for the crown of my Saviour and King, 

Fit for the brow of the heavenly Queen ? 

Worthy to rival the wonderful sheen 



494 Beside the Western Sea. 

Of lilies that bloomed in his mystical rod 

Who watched heaven's flowers, who guarded his 

God? 
There is wealth, there are treasures, that mortals 

may bring 
To the portals of pearl, to the throne of the King : 
The jewels that fall fiom the penitent's e3^es, 
The sighs of contrition He will not despise ; 
The love like to that which anointed His feet 
With fragrance all fitting, and unction most sweet; 
The hope that had failed not, e'en under the rod. 
The faith that e'er murmured, ''My Lord and my 

God!" 
Ah ! these are the offerings worthy to be 
Your wealth and your treasures, O heavenly three ! 
By the rivers of bliss amid infinite calm. 
On garments washed white in the blood of the 

Lamb ; 
O'er the lyres of the seraphs, that joyously ring 
When the sinner bows low at the feet of the King,— 
Through all the " glad city " these tributes shall 

shine. 
Crown-jewels resplendent, love's treasures divine. 
The heart's lowly homage meet ofTring shall be 
For the household of heaven — its glorious three ! 



THE PRAYER OF AFFECTION. 

TO MIRIAM. 

O A BEAUTIFUL dream thy life should be, 

If fate would list to the prayer of love, — 
All fair as the face of a summer sea, 

All bright as the heavens that laugh above ; 
And joy should waft, on his zephyr wings, 

The balmiest breath of the rose to thee. 
And the sweetest carol the wild bird sings 

Should faintly symbol thy songs of glee. 

But, alas for love and its fairy dream ! 

Life's stormy billows will madly rise. 
And clouds o'ershadow the golden gleam 

And the azure hue of the summer skies ; 
The breath and the bloom of the rose will die — 

O woe for love, and its unheard prayer ! — 
And songs will change to the wailing cry, 

And the choking sob of a wild despair. 

But I'll dream of the joys of earth no more. 

There's One will list to the prayer of love — 
Look over life's sea to its peaceful shore — 

With the bow of His promise smiling above : 
Mav its lisfht illumine the darksome dav, 

And span the gulf of the grave at even, 
That the angels, over that shining way. 

May lead thy soul to its rest in heaven ! 



^ 



COLUMBUS AND ISABELLA. 

O YE grand, heroic ages ! O.ye royal days of yore ! 
In your quaint, illumined pages shrining yet a 

golden store. 
And from out those mines of glory yielding rich, 

abundant themes 
For the scholar's lofty story, for the minstrel's 

glorious dreams, — 
Lo ! the misty veil is lifted, e'en from iny untutored 

sight, 
And the clouds are slowly shifted from that distant 

realm of light; 
And amid the dreams Elysian, that from out its 

portal glide, 
07ie, in sooth a matchless vision, shall for evermore 

abide : 
On her throne of royal splendor sits the Sov'reign 

of Castile, 
Worthy she of homage tender, worthy she of 

tribute leal ; 
'Mid the pomp that doth surround her, she hath 

kept a soul serene, 
And a fitting fame hath crowned her as the good, 

the Christian Queen ! 



Columbus and Isabella. 497 

To the scorned Italian dreamer, who hath met but 

courtly sneer, 
To the "visionary schemer," lends she now a 

gracious ear ; 
And as she lists benignly to his strange, romantic 

dream, 
Dotig a vision, sent divinely, in her musing glances 

gleam ? 
Ay, her spirit's gaze is gifted with a blest, prophetic 

power, 
And the veil of doubt is lifted in that faith-illumined 

hour ; 
And no motive base she feareth in Italia's dreamer 

now, 
For a truth her soul revereth sits enthroned upon 

his brow. 
And her gracious trust abideth, for, across the 

Western seas, 
In the bark her gift provideth, sails the saintly 

Genoese ; 
And, at last, his heart that panted for that wondrous 

Western land 
Bows beside the cross he planted on its bright dis- 
covered strand. 
O Columbia, starry-vested ! hail that dreamer ever- 
more. 
Who, beyond the billows crested, sought thy darkly 

curtained shore, 
And, bethink thee, he had striven to unfold his 

dream in vain, 
Till the kindly aid was given in the sunny land of 

Spain ; 



498 Beside the Western Sea. 

Till the prophet-glances gracious of the good, the 

Christian Queen 
Saw thy realm, serene and spacious, o'er the waves 

that rolled between, 
And in thy regal splendor, in the noonday of thy 

weal, 
Giv^e thy grateful tribute tender to that Sov'reign 

of Castile. 



THE ROCK OF LOURDES. 

That rugged rock in desert land, 

Where, fainting, sunk the chosen band, 

Before their leader's wand had brought 

The fount with life and healing fraught, 

Was not, I ween, a wilder spot 

Than thy stern rocks, O favored grot ! 

Before the peasant maiden's hand. 

Obedient to a blest command, • 

That fountain won, whose waters bear 

Glad healing to the nations, there. 

Nor did the Hebrew pilgrims bless 

Their fount within the wilderness 

With fervor more intense than theirs 

Who hail the boon of answered prayers, 

And rise, of direst evils cured, 

From thy Bethsaida, blessed Lourdes ! 

But ah ! that desert fountain's gleam. 

When matched with thine, thou wondrous stream, 



The Rock of Lourdes. 499 

Was dim and darksome as the wave's 
Within the gloom of ocean caves, 
Compared with crests that sparkle free 
Upon the bright, mishaded sea. 
Ah! thou didst change, O Sov'reign fair! 
That lonely desert, bleak and bare : 
Thy mandate bade thy servant bring 
From barren rock the healing spring, 
When thou didst rise upon her view, 
In snowy robe and stole of blue, — . 
Fit emblems of thy royal state, 
Thy grace and truth, Immaculate ! 
And there thy sweet, consoling glance 
Brought pardon to thy contrite France, 
And gav^, as pledge of peace secured, 
The blest Siloam-fount of Lourdes. 
Bright healer ! from thy lofty throne 
Descend on spirit-deserts lone, 
And from each rock-encircled heart, 
Ah ! bid thy sweet Lourdes-fountain start ; 
There ceaseless wonders shall be wrought 
By streams with grace and mercy fraught, 
And gratitude shall rear her shrine, 
As votive offering divine. 
Upon that blest, transfigured ground, 
Where once the rocky summits frowned. 



THE BLESSING OF THE WINTER STORM 

"SWEET ARE THE USES OF ADVERSITY." 

The day -king reigned with all his tyrant power, 

His fierce midsummer wra«th, 
And singing stream and fragrant-breathing flower 

Were withered in his path ; . 
Earth glowed, I ween, with bright barbaric splendor, 

A golden-vestured queen — 
But where, alas ! her vernal freshness tender. 

Her dewy smile serene? 
No fleecy cloud-wave on the " upper ocean," 

To soothe its weary glow ; 
Amid the boughs no softly- sw" ay ing motion, 

No zephyr's murmur low. 
Soon spread the dust its sad '^ memento mori^' — 

Its penance-robe of gray, — 
O'er verdant vales, that hide, in garments hoar}^, 

Their spring-tide's bright array. 
No merry songs, no bird's sweet trill of gladness, 

Could pierce the dreary haze, — 
The dusty veil, that wove its spells of sadness 

O'er long midsummer days ; 
So, mute, benumbed, as 'neath the tyrant power 

Of dread magician foe. 
Earth lay asleep, in strange, enchanted bower, 

Within that tropic glow. 



The Bless i7ig of the Winter Storm. 501 

Down swept the storm, from cloudy caverns driven 

By wildest winter wrath, 
And giant boughs, from moaning forests riven, 

Lay scattered in his path. 
Earth woke, uncrowned-, bereft of summer splendor, 

No more a jewelled queen, — 
Her golden treasures summoned to surrender 

To one with awful mien. 
Who sent the clouds in tempest gloom to hover 

Where shone the summer glow, — 
Who sped the blast, and bade the fierce floods cover 

The dusty plains below. 

The storms are o'er ; a voice of strength and sweet- 
ness 

Commandeth, " Peace ! be still ! " 
And lo ! the tempest flies, on wings of fleetness. 

Beyond " the cloud-capt hill ; " 
But, — glad result of winter's vandal-power, 

Sweet fruit of cloud and storm, — 
Serene and smiling, in her bloomy bower, 

Lo ! spring-tide's fairy form ! 
A dewy freshness in the soft air lingers, 

Dream-odors freight the gale. 
For gentle sprites still sow, with rosy fingers, 

Bright blossoms o'er the vale ; 
Soft is the song of streamlets, swiftly gliding 

Through grassy meadows sweet. 
Glad are the carols of the songsters, hiding 

In leafy-roofed retreat. 
Won by the storm from dull, lethargic slumber, 

Where she so long had lain, 



502 Beside the Western Secc. 

Cleansed from the dust that could so darkly cumber 

By wildest winter rain, 
Earth rises now, serene, and crowned, and living 

In vernal freshness fair, 
While warbled praise and songs of glad thanksgiving 

Fill all her spring-tide air. 

* « vf « 45- -K- * * 

Behold thy type, in swiftly changing vision, 

Thy life, O human soul ! 
From blighting glow to vernal peace Elysian, 

From stern to sweet control. 
Thy Summer smiled in long, unwaning splendor, 

Unclouded, still, and fair. 
But ah ! no dewy freshness, soft and tender, 

Shed balmy influence there ; 
Thy spirit-blossoms knew no fragrance holy 

Of kindly word and deed : 
They bloomed, alas ! in selfish brightness solely, 

And served no gentle need. 
And weary soon, with brightness all unbroken, 

And faint with changeless heat. 
They lost each trace of beauty's tinted token. 

Each charm serenely sweet. 
No birdlike note of gratitude, ascending. 

Rung blithely on the air, 
No singing streams their joyous murmurs blending 

Gushed forth in gladness there. 
No cloud e'er crossed the skies so blue and smiling 

No rain-drop softly fell. 
And dreamy brightness wrought its charm beguil- 
ing,— 

Its soft and slumbrous spell ; 



The Blessi?ig of the Winter Storm. 503 
And naught of time's swift, changeful pinions know- 



ing 



Whereon the sweet days flee, 
Soft sleep was thine, amid the summer glowing, 
Of bright prosperity. 

But swift and sudden came the tempest, sweeping 

From cloudy caverns drear; 
And mighty floods, their guardian rocks o'erleap- 
ing, 

Wrought ruin, woe, and fear. 
The blast swept on, now wildl}^ fiercely roaring, 

Now moaning as in pain, 
While downward flowed, from depthless caverns 
pouring. 

The ceaseless winter rain ; 
But, sweet result of wintry devastation. 

Blest fruit of cloud and storm. 
Crowned with the rainbow-pledge of glad duration, 

Lo ! Spring's celestial form ! 
Sweet, star-eyed blossoms, 'neath her footsteps 
springing, 

Smile from the moistened sod. 
Glad echoes rise of carols blithely ringing, 

To seek the ear of God. 
Pure incense, borne on fragrant wings to heaven, 

Its sacred story bears 
Of spirit- blooms washed free from earthly leaven, 

From dust of selfish cares ; 
Of sluggard-slumbers, now for ever broken. 

Of tempests sent in love, 



504 Beside the Western Sea. 

Of blessed storms, that shrine the tender token 

Of mercy from above. 
And learning thus the lesson, sweet and tender, 

That came through storm and pain. 
Cease not, O heart ! in spring-tide peace to render 

Thy thanks for winter rain. 



SAINT MARY MAGDALEN. 

*'many sins are forgiven her because she hath loved much." 

wand'rer homeward led 1 

prodigal restored ! 

1 see thy humbled head 

Bowled low before thy Lord ; 

And o'er His sacred feet 

1 see thee fondly pour 
Thy ointment, rare and sweet, 

Thy tears, — a priceless store. 

O recompense divine ! 

" Thy love hath won thee grace : ** 
Well, well may rapture shine 

On thy transfigured face. 

And now, O faithful saint ! 

Thy love doth bid thee go 
Where He, cross-burdened, faint, 

Toils o'er His way of woe, — 



Saint Mary Magdalen. 505 

Ay, where the King of kings 

Hangs, throned in agony. 
The mournful Mother clings, 

All desolate, to thee. 

And scarce hath morning's hand 

Dispelled the shades of gloom. 
When thou dost, weeping, stand 

Beside His empty tomb. 

O sinner, clothed with grace. 

And crowned with heav^en's light ! 

Thy risen Master's face 

Greets first thv favored sisfht. 

The Lamb's triumphant song 

Thou, ransomed, joinest now, 
And, 'mid the white-robed throng, 

Dost lift thy shining brow. 

Thy halo-circled name 

Illumes our darkened earth. 
The grateful Church doth claim 

Thy prayers of boundless worth. 

O Mary, name of grace ! 

Magdalen, saved by love ! 
Ah ! bid the Master trace 

Our names in light above. 

Plead for the guilty soul. 

Guide home the steps that err, 
And, 'neath thy blest control, 

O shield the wanderer ! 



5o6 Beside the Western Sea. 

And o'er her Saviour's feet, 
Ah ! may each sinner pour 

The balm of penance sweet 
With tears, a priceless store ; 

So shall her bonds be riven 
At mercy's hallowed touch, 

And darkest sins forgiven, 
" Because she loveth much." 



A SONG FOR THE MOSS. 

Sing for the moss, the clinging moss, 

High up in the abbey wall, 
Weaving its network close across 

The turret gray and tall ; 
Fringing the ruined Gothic arch, 

As if it strove to hide 
Each trace of Time's triumphal march 

O'er the works of human pride ! 

Bending down from the cottage eaves, 

Seeking, in love, to tw^ine 
With the glowing buds and dewy leaves 

Of the lattice-shading vine ; 
Creeping under the churchyard gate, 

Shrouding the unmarked bed. 
Where the victim of a cruel fate 

Sleeps softly with the dead. 



A Song for the Moss. 507 

Shrinking down in a sheltered nook 

Of the dim and ancient wood, 
Where the tiny waves of the crystal brook 

Dance on in their solitude ; 
Decking in pity the dusty breast 

Of the silent wayside stone, 
Lying there, in its dreamless rest, 

By the busy road, alone. 

Then sing for the moss, the loving moss ! 

Long may it strive to hide 
The brand of Time, as he sweeps across 

The works of human pride ! 
Long ma)^ it crown the turret high, 

And deck the ruined hall, 
Long may it mingle lovingly 

With vines on the cottage wall ! 

Long may it shroud, with a quiet grace, 

The narrow graveyard bed, — 
The last, the lonely resting-place 

Of the broken-hearted dead. 
Ay, long may it dwell in the forest lone, 

The poet's loved retreat. 
Long may it give, on the wayside stone, 

Rest to the wanderer's feet ! 



SAINT PATRICK'S PRAYER. 

With his holy hands uplifted, 
And his glances raised on high, 

While the clouds above him drifted 
Darkly o'er the midnight sky, 

Prayed the saint, till dawn of day, 

As a saint alone can pray. 

When the morn, in sunny splendor, 
Journeyed to its golden prime, 

When the twilight, soft and tender, 
Brought the sacred vesper-time, 

Ever, on the trembling air. 

Rose his one impassioned prayer. 

For the land his zeal had gifted 
With the gems of faith and love,— 

Thus, with holy hands uplifted, 
And with glances raised above. 

Prayed the saint till dawn of day. 

As a saint alone can pray. 

Ah ! what sought those echoes soaring 
Upward to the '' great, white throne " ? 

What the theme of fond imploring. 
Murmured in the midnight lone? 

What the burden of that prayer 

Rising on the morning air? 



Saint PatiHck!s Prayer. 509 

m 

Sought he wealth of worldly glory 

For the land he loved so well ? 
Prayed he that, in song and story, 

Evermore her fame might dwell? 
Conquest proud, and boundless power, — 
Would he thus Hibernia dower? 

No ; a boon more richly freighted 
Would that voice for Erin gain,— ■ 

Saintly pleadings, unabated, 

Breath'd but one subhme refrain: 

' May she, e'en though woes endure, 

Keep Th}^ faith undimmed and pure/* 

To the potent voice that pleaded, 
Hath high heaven ansu^ered well? 

Was that voice by Erin heeded ? 
Let the tale historic tell. 

Through the woes that long endure, 

Has her faith been firm and pure? 

Answer, dark, ensanguined pages ! 

Answer, minstrel's wailing tones ! 
Sighs, that sound through weary ages, 

Mourner's sobs, and martyr's moans ! 
Winds, that wail where clinging vines 

Fondly clasp her ruined shrines ! 

Answer all, — want, desolation, ' 
Every grief that earth may know ! 

Answer, exiles' lamentation. 
Blent with Erin's" wail of woe ! 

List! " Through woes that long endure. 

Still her faith is firm and pure." 



5IO Beside the Western Sea. 

Thanks, O saintly voice uplifted ! 

Thanks, O glances raised on high ! 
Through the clouds that long have drifted 

O'er the azure of her sky 
Shines the ray those pleadings won, 
Shines her faith's unfading sun. 

Erin's pilgrim sons and daughters, 
Wanderers from your own fair isle ! 

Ye have borne, across the waters, 
Faith's undimmed and sunny smile; 

Ye have blessed its guiding ray,— 

Pillared flame by night and day. 

Guard it still in joy or sadness, 
That across the sounding main 

Ye may join, in tones of gladness, 
Erin's sweet, sublime refrain : 

" Whatsoe'er our hearts endure, 

Still our faith is firm and pure." 



THE PAPAL VOLUNTEERS. 

O BLESSINGS on that noble host 

Who serve the Father's need ! 
Be theirs the triumph glad and sure, 

Be theirs the victor's meed ! 
Beneath the standard of the cross 

They battle for the right, 
They shield the sacred shrine of truth 

From fierce, despoiling might. 
O God of armies ! be their strength, 

Arm thou each stalwart hand, 
Let vict'ry light thy warrior's path, 

And guide his gleaming brand ! 
Be Israel's arm of magic his, 

To quell the lawless foe. 
To check the ingrate Absalom, 

And lay Goliath low ; 
To stand on Zion's sacred walls, 

As warder firm and brave, 
Undaunted, while the Gentile hosts 

Beneath its ramparts rave ; 
To guard the ark of holy truth. 

To shield the priest of God, 
To free His chosen ones, who shrink 

Beneath the tyrant's rod. 
Go forth, then, soldiers of the cross ! 

Go forth, serene and strong, 
And faint not, though the way be wild. 

The battle tumult long; 



512 Beside the Weste^m Sea. 

For earnest hands uplifted are, 

Until the fight be done, 
Till, with the potent aid of prayer, 

Your triumph shall be won. 
On, then, in Pio Nono's cause ! 

On, on, for truth's dear home, — 
The sacred shrine, its gem divine, 

The faith of holy Rome ! 
All blessings light your onward way 

Who serve the Father's need ! 
Be yours the conquest glad and sure. 

Be yours the victor's meed ! 



SONG OF THE ANGEL OF FIRE. 

I RULE the shininof element 

That gilds the grateful earth, 
And sheds its rich and rosy light 

Around the cheerful hearth. 
Ye see the flood of glory lie 

On mount, and vale, and stream, — 
And love ye not the gentle hand 

That sends each golden gleam ? 
And while in happy homes ye sit 

And watch the ruddy blaze. 
Will ye not bless the kindly power 

That rules its genial rays ? 
In classic days they worshipped me, 

Ay, called my name divine. 
And placed their costly gifts upon 

My vestal-guarded shrine ; 



Song of the A 71 gel of Fire. 

They built the stately fane for me, 

And struck the sounding lyre, 
And proudly, in their noblest hymns, 

They sung the praise of fire. 
I do not crave such homage now, 

I only ask a smile 
From eves that beam with holv li2:ht, 

And lips that speak no guile ; 
For I am but His messenger 

Whose fiat formed the light, 
And bade its beams adorn the dav, 

x\nd cheer the gloom of night, — 
Who, from the mystic bush of flame, 

In awful glory shone, 
And gave His servant strength to stand 

Before the tvrant's throne ; 
Whose fiery pillar shed its ray 

O'er Israel's desert path, 
Who bade the sacred mountain shine 

With liofhtninofs of His wrath ; 
Whose sunlight gilds the harvest field, 

And tints the regal flower. 
Who forms the rainbow arch of peace 

From mino:led o:leam and shower. 
I bow me to His mandate blest. 

Fond servant of His will, 
I leave mv place beside His throne, 

His bounty to fulfil; 
And o'er the glad and grateful earth 

I shed the golden glow, 
And make the love-encircled hearth 

Heaven's fairest type below. 



OM 



514 Beside the Western Sea. 

Lo ! in my wealth of radiance, 

With warmth and gladness fraught, 
I trace, in shining characters, 

Full many a holy thought, — 
Bright emblem of the sacred flame 

Of fadeless love divine, 
Of purity's own vestal ray, 

And mercy's beam benign. 
The gleam of faith's uplifted eye, 

Hope's smile of radiant hue, — 
All joy, all holiness, I bring 

Before the spirit's view. 
O ye, on whose transfigured souls 

Redeeming love doth shine, 
Who bask within its matchless beam, 

Its glow and w^armth divine ! 
Leave not that smiling radiance, 

Guard well that sacred fire'. 
And bid its flame within your souls 

Burn brighter still, and higher, 
Till, purified from earthly stain, 

And freed from earthly leaven, 
Your shining souls shall reach the source 

Of cloudless light in heaven. 



MOTHER SETON. 

Lo ! the hosts of valiant women ! 

Lo ! the legions, brave and strong", 
That have " come up from the desert " 

In a grand, immortal throng, — 
That have fought, with hearts undaunted, 

'Gainst a fierce and h3'dra foe, 
Till, within the dust degrading, 

They have brought his standard low ! 
But they seek no vain applauses. 

And they court no gazing crowd, 
And they stand not in the forum, 

Lifting clamor shrill and loud. 
No ! the true strong-minded follow 

Where a calmer guidance leads^ 
And the lowly path of duty 

Is their field for lofty deeds. 
Ay, they tread, with steady footsteps, 

In her still, secluded way, 
Who was stronger, in her meekness, 

Than a host in war array, — 
Who, in Nazareth's cottage lowly, 

Bore her blest, yet hidden part, 
While she kept her Saviour's sayings 

Fondly treasured in her heart. 
And amid those silent toilers 

Is a wonder-working band. 
Who have brought the boons of heaven, 

As they pass from land to land ; 



5 1 6 Beside the Western Sea. 

Who have braved the ocean tempest 

And the desert's burning ray, 
From the Northland to the tropics, 

From Columbia to Cathay. 
Noble daughters of Saint Vincent ! 

Where the hosts to match with ye? 
Legions of the Lord of pity ! 

Valiant band of charity ! 
Who hath won your angel presence. 

Who hath brought your labors blest. 
To the mighty land of freedom, 

To the empire of the West ? 
*' In a sunny Southern valley 

Is an Eden, calm and sweet, 
Where we gird our toihng armies 

For ' the burden and the heat;' 
And that vale of blest Saint Joseph 

Hath a dear and sacred trust, 
For it shrineth o)te whose life-deeds 

Blossom, fragrant, in the dust. 
O a rare and matchless treasure 

Is that angel-guarded grave. 
Though no pompous tomb is o'er it, 

And no stately banners wave ; 
For the mortal shrine reposing 
■ Till the resurrection there, 
Held a stainless spirit-flower, 

In its casket, sweet and fair. 
O our loved and saintly mother! 

O our foundress, true and brave! 
Deathless are the links that bind us 

To thy dear and sacred grave. 



Mother Seton. 517 

And where'er our feet may wander, 

And whate'er our labors be, 
While we serve our lowly Master, 

In His cause of charity ; 
While Ave keep our silent vigils 

By the weary couch of pain, 
While we stanch the flowing life-stream 

On the ghastly battle-plain ; 
As we soothe the orphan's wailing, 

And assuage the mourner's woe, 
As we turn the sinner's glances 

Where the beams of mercy glow, — 
In the streets of crowded cities, 

On the wide and lonely sea, 
Still we shrine our saintly foundress, 

In our tend'rest memor3^" 
O ye hearts that bless the Sisters 

For the conquests they have wrought, 
For the reaped and garnered harvest, 

With its rich abundance fraught! 
Hail the noble hand that founded. 

That hath sown the magic seed, 
That hath sought the earliest worker? 

In the time of direst need. 
Oh, on earth, sweet Mother Seton, 

Thou hast won a deathless name, 
And the seraph hosts of heaven 

Shall for ever sing thy fame ! 



SAINT PATRICK CROSSING THE 
ATLANTIC. 

He hath heard the plaintive summons o'er the 
Western waters rins^ino;, 
As it rung, O sacred Erin ! from thy verdant isle 
of yore ; 
And he cometh swift and eager, to the land of sun- 
set brinsrino: 
Blessed boons of grace and mercy in a rich, 
unfailing store. 

Cometh he to far Columbia ? Leaves he, then, the 
shining legions, 
That repose within the glorj^ of the " great, eter- 
nal throne " ? 
From the blissful rest of heaven, from the fair, 
celestial regions. 
Doth he seek again the earthland serpent- 
blighted, chill and lone? 

Tn the faith-illumined spirits of thy saintly sons and 
daughters, 
O thou loveliest island-jewel set within the shin- 
ing sea ! 
In their hearts the blest apostle beareth o'er the 
Western waters 
Purest altar-flames undying, that he kindled once 
in thee. 



Let Us Go to Sweetness, 5 i g 

Ay, their souls, unstained and loyal, are the shrines 
wherein he keepeth 
Blessed balm of grace and mercy for the heaUng 
of the West ; 
In their prayers his pleading rises, by their earnest 
hands he reapeth 
Boundless store from seeds they wafted o'er the 
wild Atlantic's crest. 



^'LET US GO TO SWEETNESS."* 

[A Legend of Nazareth,] 

'"■ All our happy sports are stajxd," 

Wailed a childish chorus^ 
^'' By the tempest's threat'ning shade, 

Looming- darkly o'er us; 
•Mary's Child the sun will bring 

In its bright completeness: 
Let us seek the little King, 

Let us go to Sweetness." 

Trusting band of Nazareth ] 

When the cloud hath drifted 
'O'er our way with chilling breath, 

Let OILY cry be lifted ; 
Mary's wondrous Child will bring 

Joy's serene completeness : 
Let us seek our infant King, 

Let us go to Sweetness! 

* This beautiful legend tells that, during the childhood of our Lord, 
Avheu rain threatened, or little quarrels rose, the children of Nazareth 
would cry, *'Let us seek Jesus, the little King ! Let us go to Sweetness." 



THE TRUE AND ETERNAL GLORY OF 

ROME. 



" Rome ! Rome ! thou art no more 

As thou hast been : 
On thy seven hills of yore, 

Thou satst a queen." — Mrs. Hemans. 



Nay, Rome ! thou art far more 

Than thou hast been, 
Greater than when " of yore 

Thou satst a queen ;" 
The m3^stic " ring of flame " 

Gleams o'er thy brow — 
A purer, loftier name 

Thou bearest now. 

Rome ! that imperial brow 

Higher shall rise. 
Heaven's smile upon thee now 

Glows in thy skies ; 
Ay, and thy gleaming sun 

From cross-crowned spire 
A brighter gold hath won, — 

A holy fire. 



The Ti'ice Glory of Rome. 5 2 1 

A conquering train hath swept 

Thy streets along; 
Thy echoing air hath kept 

Their lofty song. 
Ah ! not with pomp and pride 

The victors came, 
Yet earth hath glorified 

Each hero-name. 

Their song of triumph swelled 

When, with hushed breath, 
The pagan throng beheld 

The Christian's death. 
Each death of strife and pain 

Hath won for thee 
Thy new, triumphant reign, — 

Heaven's royalty. 

Out, out upon the dirge 

For glory past ! 
While Time's loud weaves shall surge, 

Thy reign shall last. 
Rome ! Rome ! exult thou must, 

Froud wealth is thine, — 
Those martyrs' holy dust 

Thy tombs enshrine. 

The wreath of victory 

They proudl}^ wore, 
Thy coronet shall be 

For evermore ; 



522 Beside the Western Sea. 

Thy royal robes were dyed 

In mart3'rs' blood, 
Thy guilt-stains purified 

By that blest flood. 

What, though the famed of old, 

Hero and sage, 
Have passed — new names behold 

On history's page ! 
Pure victors, crow^ned with palm, 

Names without taint, — 
The soldier of the Lamb, 

The white-robed saint. 

And they who well may see 

Thy queenly brow, 
Dare ask, in mockery, 

What thou hast now ? 
Thou hast — O blissful thought ! — 

The gifts He gave, — 
The priceless boons He brought 

Who died to save. 

A faith undimmed and pure, 

Shrines that shall last, 
Temples that shall endure, — 

These, these thou hast! 
Then, Rome, exult ! thou'rt more 

Than thou hast been ! 
Thy seven hills, as of yore. 

Still throne a queen ! 



THE EXILED SISTERS. 

Again we greet, as welcome guests, 

A persecuted band, 
Again the holy exile rests, 

Within our favored land ; 
For He who guided Francis' sons 

To Francis' city fair, 
Hath led again His chosen ones, 

His benisons to bear. 

O cruel hearts ! how could ye bid 

The sweet earth-angels flee? 
Alas ! ye know not what ye did, 

Nor what your meed shall be ; 
For thus upon your guilty heads 

Just heaven's wrath ye draw — 
What woe awaiteth him who treads 

On mercy's sacred law ! 

Ah ! holy handmaids of the Lord, 

Must this your guerdon be? 
Was banishment the sole reward 

Of angel charity ? 
Unto the lonely orphan lamb 

A mother's care ye gave ; 
Your hands the levered brow could calm, 

The erring wand'rer save. 



52/|, Beside the Western Sea, 

Your tender ministrations soothed 

Each pang of mortal doom, 
And for the fainting- pilgrim smoothed 

His pathway to the tomb ; 
No shrinking fear, no thought of self, 

Love's laborers could deter, 
Nor greed of fame or worldly pelf 

Was duty's daily spur. 

Their motto was "the Master's will," 

Their day-star was His law; 
For love they wrought — His likeness still 

In suft'ring man they saw ; 
But scorn, earth's tribute to its Lord, 

Is theirs who bear His name : 
Foul insult was their King's reward, — 

Their meed is still the same. 

But we, to whom His spouses blest 

As precious gifts were sent, 
Will bid each holy exile guest 

Forget her banishment ; 
For here their gentle sister band 

Have wrought their deeds of love ; 
Their presence won for this fair land 

Rare blessings from above. 

Our gratitude, ah ! let us show 

By help in hour of need ; 
And thus, while gladly we bestow 

The generous gift and deed. 
Again shall promise sweet be made : 

" All this ye do to Me ; 
In charity's dear band 3^6 aid 

The Lord of charit}^ ! " 



THE CENTENNIAL OF SAN FRANCISCO. 

[Written for the Centennial Celebration of the Mission of San 
Francisco, founded, in 1776, by two Franciscan priests, Fathers Paliou 
and Cambon.] 

'TiS well to ring" the pealing bells 

And sing the joyous la3^ 
And make this glad centennial year 

One gleeful gala-day ; 
For Freedom's sun, that floods the land 

With Summer's golden glow, 
Dawned brightly on the night of gloom, 

One hundred years ago ! 

And, dwellers in this favored land 

Beside the Western Sea ! 
Be yours an added thrill of joy, 

A two-fold jubilee ; 
For — sweet and strange coincidence I — 

The bright, benignant glow 
Of faith dispelled a deeper gloom, 

One hundred years ago ! 

All honor to our noble sires, 

The tried and true-souled band, 
Whose valor loosed the Gordian knot 

That bound their native land ; 
Who crushed the tyrant's haughty host, 

And laid his standard low, 
And bade the starry banner wave, 

One hundred vears a 2:0 I 



526 Beside the Western Sea. 

All honor, too, and deathless fame 

Unto the brown-robed band, 
Whose hands released from fetters dread 

Our glorious golden land ; 
Who gained a bloodless victory 

Against the demon foe, 
And lifted high the cross of Faith, 

One hundred years asfo ! 

The sons of Francis journeyed far 

From wave-washed Monterey, 
To labor where his saintly name 

Had blessed our shining bay ; 
And well those holy toilers wrought 

To bid Faith's harvests glovs'. 
And Truth's sweet vineyards ripen fair, 

One hundred years ago I 

Nor San Francisco saw alone 

That fondly toiling band, — 
Their missions blessed full many a spot 

Within our favored land ; 
And Peace divine, at their behest. 

Here arched her sacred bow, 
From North to South, from East to West, 

One hundred years asfo ! 

And not alone one chosen clime 
Obeyed their meek control, — 

In earth's remotest realms they wrought 
To tame the savage soul ; 



The Centennial of San Francisco 527 

From many a land that wondrous band 

Had chased the fiendish foe, 
Long ere the}^ won sweet conquest here^ 

One hundred years ago ! 

How blest the children of the wild 

Beneath their gentle sway ! 
Not theirs the harsh command that bids 

The trembling slave obey ; 
Not theirs the stern, despotic tone, 

The tyrant's cruel blow : 
By love the meek Franciscans ruled, 

One hundred years ao^o ! 

Ah ! well the ransomed savage loved 

The kind paternal care 
That with his simple joys could smile, 

And in his sorrows share, — 
That could the blest baptism give. 

The Bread of Life bestow, 
And cheer the darksome vale of death, 

One hundred years asro ! 

Within the rude adobe shrine 

What holy calmness dwelt ! 
How fervent was the savage throngs 

That round its altar knelt ! 
How lowly bowed the dusky brows 

When, through the sunset glow, 
Rung out the sweet-toned Angclus, 

One hundred years ago ! 



528 Beside the Western Sea. 

Pure, Eden-like simplicity, 

For ever passed away ! 
For, o'er the missions came, at last, 

A fierce, tyrannic swa}^ ; 
And sacrilegious hands could dare 

To strike, with savage blow. 
The band that brought salvation's boons, 

One hundred years ago ! 

But we, v/ho know how rich the gift 

That holy band bestowed 
Upon the land where stranger hosts 

Since made their fair abode, — 
Ay, we who hail the beams of faith 

In radiant noonday glow, 
Will fondly bless the dawn that rose 

One hundred years ago ! 

O sovereign city of the West 

Enthroned in royal state. 
Where bows the Bay his shining crest, 

Within thy Golden Gate ! 
Thou'lt ne'er forget, though o'er thy heart 

Vast living currents flow, 
The herald-steps that trod thy soil, 

One hundred years ago ! 

And though the lofty steeples rise 

From many a sunlit hill. 
Where, through the air, at dusk and dawn, 

The sweet bell-voices thrill, 



Adam and Eve after the Fall. 529 

Thou'lt fondly prize thy mission shrine, 

For, o'er its portal low, 
First rose the cross, and rung the chime, 

One hundred years ago ! 



ADAM AND EVE AFTER THE FALL. 

[Subject of Prof. Tojetti's picture.*] 

A SCENE suofofestive hath the artist traced : 
The desei't landscape of a dreary waste, 
And earth accursed, that nurtures, even now, 
The thorny garland for its Maker's brow ! 
From labor resting, on the lone rocks there — • 
Ah ! dismal change from Eden-arbors fair ! — 
Sits the sad parent of our sinful race, 
Deep desolation written on his face : 
Around him strewn his implements of toil, 
That win scant harvest from the rugged soil; 
And meekl}^ bowing at her consort's side, 
The fallen queen, the prey of rebel pride! 
Two fated children nestle at their feet: 
Hate's guiltless victim, tender-eyed, and sweet. 
And his dark slayer, in whose scowling mien 
The brand's doom-shadow even now is seen — 

* A gifted Italian axtist, residing in San Francisco, has recently- 
painted this beautiful picture. 



530 Beside the Western Sea, 

E'en the dumb sharers of their sports full well^ 

The symbol story of the future tell. 

The pet of Abel is the figure calm 

Of tranquil virtue, and the " Victim-Lamb ; " 

While Cain's companion, wild, uncouth, and rude, 

Is virtue's foe, in dark similitude, — 

Is that foul throng, that, on the fatal left, 

At last shall stand, of ev'ry hope bereft. 

Prophetic gaze to wretched Adam shows 

The tragic future and its train of woes : 

He sees his earth, through ghastly ages, rife 

With tumult wild of fierce fraternal strife; 

By brothers' hate are hapless Abels slain, 

And oft on man descends the curse of Cain : 

For, o'er and o'er, the brutal arm of Might 

Is lifted still, to slav the victim, Right ; 

And guiltless blood, until the close of time. 

For vengeance pleads against the hand of crime. 

O dismal dream ! O phantoms that appal ! 

O dark remembrance of that fatal fall ! 

Thus the dread knowledge of his offspring's doom 

Wraps Adam's soul in deep, remorseful gloom. 

In vain for aid he turns his weary eye. 

From barren earth to tempest-clouded sky ; 

No sunny beam, no soothing, starlight ray, 

Sheds faintest brightness o'er his desert way, 

But from the clouds the angry lightnings dart, 

Like serpent-fangs, that pierce his tortured heart. 

Then woman's task of tenderness beo^ins : 

From dark despair the stricken soul she wins; 



Adam' a7id Eve' after the Fall. 531 

Through depths of gloom she bids the mourner's 

eye 
Behold the bliss, to faith revealed 011 high. 
On one fair spot, released from darkness drear, 
Lo ! dawning now, that revelation clear! 
There clouds are rent, the tempest's rage hath 

ceased, 
The "rose of dawn " is bloomincr in the East! 
Eve's trusting glance, uplifted to the skies, 
First finds the rapture of that glad surprise ; 
Her spouse, awakened from his mournful trance, 
Obeys the summons of her upward glance. 
O stricken soul ! forget thy weary woe, 
And hail the glory of the promise-glow, 
For golden beams, in dazzHng wreaths, entwine 
The pictured prophecy of love divine : 
A smilino^ Oueen, the sinless Mother mild. 
The infant God, the death-destroying Child, — 
The Prince of Peace, whose bright, unfading 

reign 
Shall dawn at last, to end the night of pain. 
O exiled hearts! what pure, ecstatic joy ! 
What Eden-bliss, that time can ne'er destroy ! 
O banished monarch! from thy mortal line 
A King shall rise, immortal and divine ! 
O'er the dark sky His kingly splendor streams, 
And on the clouds, illumined by its beams, 
Hope builds her arch, her bright, celestial bow, — 
Her shining bridge, that spans the gulf of woe, 
And heaven unites to smiling earth below ! 



532 



Beside the Western Sea, 



O fallen queen 1 thy pitying God hath said, 
'' Thy blessed seed shall crush the serpent's head." 
Lo ! there the Victor ! there the Sov'reign sweet, 
That serpent trampling 'neath her sinless feet ! 
*' Up from the desert," lo ! she takes her way, 
Fair as the moon, and bright as beams of day, 
Miofhtier than armies, in their war array, — 
The one pure rose that blooms from earthly sod — 
Thy daughter fair ! the Mother of thy God ! 




SUBSCRIBERS. 



ccriES. 

Most Kev. J. S. Alemany, D. D., Arclibisliop of San Francisco - 25 

Eight Eev. E. O'Connell, D. D., Bisliop of Marysville .- - 25 

Presentation Convent, Powell Street, San Francisco - - - 50 

Presentation Convent, Taylor Street << << . _ 50 

Dominican Convent " " - - - 50 

Convent of Notre Dame, San Jos6 ... - - 50 

Convent of Notre Dame, Worcester, Mass. - - - - 50 

Convent of Notre Dame, Cincinnati ----- 25 

Convent of Notre Dame, Marysville - - - - - 25 

Christian Brothers, St. Mary's College, San Francisco - - 50 

Christian Brothers, Second Street, New York - - - - 25 

De La Salle Institute, New York - - - - - - 12 

St. Ignatius College, San Francisco ------ 25 

Santa Clara College 25 

St. Ignatius College, Chicago -- 25 

St. John's College, Fordham, New Y'ork - - - - - 10 

Sisters of Mercy, San Francisco - 25 

Franciscan College, Santa Barbara ------ 25 

Very Kev. J. A. Kochford, 0. P. 25 

University of Notre Dame, Indiana ----- 25 

Sister Scholastica. Los Angeles. California ----- '25 

Convent of the Sacred Heart, Manhattanville. New Y'nrk - 20 

Academy of Sisters of St. Joseph, Flushing. New York - - "Jo 

St Joseph's Academy, Brooklyn ------ -25 

Mother M. St. John, St. Joseph's Academy, Chestnut Hill, 

Philadelphia 12 

Sisters of St. Joseph, Binghamton. New York - - - - 12 

Sisters of St. Joseph, St. Augustine, Florida - - - - 2 

Sisters of St. Joseph, St. Malachy's, Brooklyn - - - - 1 



536 SUBSCRIBERS. 

, COPIES. 

Sisters of Charity, Mission Street, San Francisso - - - 27 

Sisters of Charity, St. Elizabeth's Academy, Madison. New Jersey 12 

Sisters of Charity, St. Joseph's Academy, Emmettsburg - 10 

Sisters of Charitj'-, South San Francisco ----- 10 

Sisters of Charity, Orphan Asylum, Madison Ay., New York - 2 
Sisters of Mercy, Grass Valley, California - - - - - 

Mother M. Austin Carroll. New Orleans ----- 4 

Saint Rose's Academy, Santa Cniz ------ 15 

Sister M. Catherine, Petaluma - - - - -- - i 

Sister Frederica, Virginia City -------10 

Madame Shannon, Convent of the Sacred Heart. St. Joseph. Mo. 6 

Madame Moran, Convent of the Sacred Heart, Grand Cotean 1 

Academy of the Sacred Heart, Salem, Oregon . - - - 2 

Holy Eosary Academy, Louisville ------ 1 

Mother Emily, St. Clara Academy, Grant Co., Wis. - - - 1 

Mother Ann Gertrude, Bethlehem Academy, Fairbault, Minn. 1 

Christian Brothers, La Salle College, Philadelphia - - - 6 

Christian Brothers, Manhattan College, New York - . - 6 

Christian Brothers, Eock Hill College, Maryland - - - 5 

Christian Brothers, Catholic Protectory, West Chester - - 6 

Eev. J. M. J. Heany, St. Eose's, Kentucky ----- 5 

Eev. J. McCloskey, President Mt. St. Mary's College, Em- 
mettsburg ----------10 

St. Peter's School, New York - - - - - - - 10 

Eev. James Hanigan, Binghamton ------ 1 

J. B. Walker, Boston 2 

Joseph O'Connor, New York ------- 1 

Eev. T. O'Callaghan, San Francisco - - - - . - - 10 

Eev. T. F. T. Hudson, Gilroy, California . - . - 5 

B. O'Connell, Newark, New Jersej' ------ 2 

Seminary of our Lady of Angels. Suspension Bridge - - 3 

Very Eev. P. Melitus, St. Benedict's College, Newark - - 6 

Eev. A. A. Lings, Y'onkers ------- 5 

Eev. P. Farrelly, Galena ---1 

Eev. J. M. Finotti, Omaha - 1 

John Wensinger, Casey, Ohio -------1 

Joseph Wensinger, Casey, Ohio ------ 1 

Mrs. John Wensinger, Minneapolis - - - - - - "-1 



THE COMPREHENSIVE GEOGRAPHIES. 



Number One, 13 finely colored maps . . . $ 50 
Number Two, 26 finely colored maps, . . . 1 00 

Number Three, 34 finely colored maps, . . . 1 80 

LIBERAL TERMS ALLOvVED FOR INTRODUCTION. 

Beyond all doubt, the Comprehensive GtEographies are the best 
published. 

Please read the following extracts from the letters of eminent Pre- 
lates, Heads of Religious Orders, and Superiors of Educational Insti- 
tutions ; and from notices of Leading Catholic Journals and Reviews : 

From tbe Bi.sliop of Providence, 

We thank Mr. O'Shea for a copy of his " Comprehensive Geography No. 3." The 
work is superior to anythinsc of its kind yet published. Taking Geography as its sub- 
ject, it accompanies the names and location of places with such historical facts as 
indelibly fix these places in the minds of the dullest pupils. The knowledge which 
Mr. O'Shea has succeeded in introducing into this b aiitiful book — beautiful in 
typography, maps, and illustrations — without clogging it, or losing sight of its origi- 
nal purpose, is varied and valuable, making it a desirable addition to any library in the 
world. 

^THOMAS F. HENDRIKEN, 

Bishop of Pruvidence. 



From tlie Bisliop of Erie. 

Dear Sir: — I am much pleased with your Comprehensive Geography, and 
venture to pronounce it comprehensive, not simply on account of the varied subjects 
with wliich it deals, but especially because, though designed for the use of Schools 
and Academies, it will be fotmd very useful to all classes, even those who have finished 
their education. 

It contains several useful engravings, among which that of St. Peter's, would do 
credit to anj' artist, while the compiler has selected and arranged his materials with 
great judgment and taste. 

I was much interested in examining the map of the old Roman Empire, and com- 
paring the names of countries, islands, rivers, town?, etc., etc., as they were designated 
in Roman times with those by which they are known at present. 

This is a feature which will enhance the value of your Geography in the estimation 
of many othe'^ besides more jjupils. 

But best of ,ill, it is Catholic, and this of itself should, and I hope will, secure the 
Geography a 1 irge number of readers. 

Yours, sincerely, »J« T. MULLEN, 

Bishop of Erie. 



FROM THE 

ARCHBISHOP OF SAN FRANCISCO, 

IN APPEOVAL OF THE 

COMPREHENSIVE SEEIES OP aEOGRAPHIES, 

PUBLISHED BY P. O'SHEiV, 
37 Barclay Street, New York. 



San Francisco, April i8, 1877. 

P. O'Shea, Esq. : 

Dear Sir — Though unable personally to examine 
your Series of Geographies, Nos. I, 2 and 3, which you 
had the kindness to send me, I have no reluctance 
in stating, on the authority of persons in this Dio- 
cese competent to judge, and who have examined 
the works, that they are all that could be desired. 
They are simple, accurate, well illustrated and map- 
ped, and suited to the capacity of every grade of 
pupils. 

Very Respectfully, 

>i« J, S. Alemany. 



14 THE COMPREHENSIVE GEOGRAPHIES. 



From tlie Bisliop of Savaunali. 

Dear Sir :— I congratulate yon on the appearance of yonr new Geography. A 
cursory glance over it shows me that it is well got up, and I wish it, most cordially, 
a great success. •J« W. H. GROSS, 

Bishop of Savaimah. 



From Rt. Rev. Moiisignor Seton. 

Many thanks for the Geography which has been carefully examined, and found 
excellent in every respect. 

Prom the Very Reverend Provincial of the Jesuit Fathers 
of the Baltimore Province. 

Dear Sir:—* * * I have found the book ( Comprehensive Geography, No. 3,) 
excellent in every way— thoroughly but not obtrusively Catholic, accurate and suffi- 
ciently full in statement, admirable in its combination of history with geography — 
and whilst I congratulate you on the intrinsic merit, and on the mechanical execution 
of your work, I must also express the wish that it may be duly appreciated by the* 
Catholic Schools and Colleges of this country. I remain yours, &c. , 

JOS. P. KELLER, S. J. 

Loyola College, ) 

Baltimore, Md., Dec. 14, 1876. ) 

"^D^ar Sir:— Your Geographies Nos. 1 and 2, are a very good introduction to the 
study, and in their degree deserving of all the praise bestowed on No. 3. 

Yours, &c.. 

JOS. P. KELLER, S. J. 

From Rev. P. Hennessy, St. Patrick's Church, Jersey City. 

De\r Sir:— I have received and carefullv examined the (jeography which you 
were so kind as to send me, and am happy to be able to say that I am highly pleased 
with the book, which I consider superior in every respect to any Geography with which 
I am acquainted, and which I am only too glad to introduce into our Schools and 
Academii's to the exclusion of all others. 

You are indeed to be complimented on the result of yoiir labors In this particular 
line, since you have produced a Geography which cannot fail to make itself acceptable 
to the friends of Catholic Education throughout the United States. 

Sincerely yours, P. HENNESSY. 



From the Provincial of the Christian Brothers. 

Manhattan College, New York City, ) 
Sept. 19, 1876, f 

Mr. P. O'Shea : Dear Sir— "We have examined your Geographies and have noticed 
many impo^ant improvements. We have introduced them into all our schools in the 
B^.st. I am truly yours, Bro. PAULIAN. 



~1 



THE COMPREHENSIVE GEOGRAPHIES. 15 



From tlie Ladies of the Sacred Heart, Maiiliattauville. 

Mr. 0"Shea : Dear Sir — We have examined your Comprehensive Geography, 
Nos. 2 and 3, and have much pleasure in giving the desiie(i opinion. We consider 
that these books have been so carefully and judiciously prepared that they cannot fail 
to meet with a deserved success. Among many advantages peculiar to these books we 
would mention the brief historical notice accompanying the geography of each coun- 
try ; also, the taste and superior execution of the illustrations. We feel sure that 
these points will be generally appreciated. 

ACADEMY OF THE SACRED HEART. 
Manhattanville, Oct. 25, 1876. 



From Rev. J. A. Boissonault, St. Jolmsbury, Vermont. 

Dear Sir : — Your Geography is an excellent work. It is so admirably disposed, 
that I have no hesitation to adopt it for my school. 

Truly yours, 

J. A. BOISSONAULT, Priest. 



From Rev. !D* O'Douovan, Greencastle, Indiana. 

I have examined the Comprehensive Geography No. 3, of Mr. O'Shea, and have 
found it to be an excellent production. 

D. O'DONOVAN, Pastor of St. Paul's Church. 



Wyandotte, Kansa.s, March 9, 1877. 

Mr. P. O'Shea, New York. — Having had for fifteen years charge of schools, 1 felt 
always opposed to new books on account of the great expense and unnecessary trouble. 
If your Governor of New York complained about the peri-etual change of books, how 
much more poor Catholic parents, or the priest who often has to provide from his 
scanty means one-third of his school with books. But in regard to your '• Comprehen- 
sive Geography," I make cheerfully an exception. It is of all the books i^ that 
line the VEiiY best I HAVE EVER SEEN, and the very book that ought to be in every 
Catholic scho j1 ; and for the sake of our holy Faith that has been trampled out of 
18,000.000 I 1 ! in America I wish and pray, that your " Comi)rehensive Geography" 
may be introduced in all the Catholic schools of America at the next term, and may 
our 500,000 pupils increase to a round million before long, is the sincere wish of 

Yom-s, respectfully, A. KUHLS, 

Pastor of St. Mary's Church. 



From tlie Sisters of Cliarity, St. Vincent's Scliool, 

Wliistler, Ala. 

Your Geography is the most popular of any series, and we doubt not, as soon as its 
merits are a little better known, it wiU be introduced into every Catholic Institution. 



16 THE COMPREHENSIVE GEOGRAPniES. 



EXTRACTS FROM NOTICES OF THE CATHOLIC PRESS. 



From tlie New York Freeman's Joarnal. 

After thus much of generalizations we must come to a special m. tice of Mr. 0"Shca's 
Geography. It is uot possible for us to deny it the merit of great skill, and indomit- 
able industry. 

77ie LeUtr Prea^—that is, the Story of the Diff'erentCount}-ier,is told loith Intelli- 
gent Earnestness, and in a Sense more exactly accordiny to lYulh, than in aiiy other 
Geography published in any Country, or in amj Language. 

We feel bound to say this, on the merits, and acknowledging Ihat we have been no 
friend to its inception or its execution. The maps, so far as we have examined them, 
are gi-catly superior to those of any other school geographies we have seen. They are 
remarkable, not only for beauty and distinctness, but for typogrs phical correctness — so 
far as school-maps can possess that character. 

We feel bound to recommend the Superiors, and Masters, and Mistresses of Catholic 
Schools to get specimens of this Geography of Mr. O'Shea, a.nd to judge for them- 
selves. In our judgment, however, this Geography is a very remarkable work, and 
redounds very greatly to the honor of Mr. O'Shea. 

Outside of its school use, we can recommend it as a very valuable book for family 
and personal entertainment and instruction — more interesting and instructive than 
all the Catholic novels and tales of fiction that have been published in the year past, 
or will be in a year to come. 



From tlie American Catholic Quarterly RcvicTV. 

* * * » vVe have no hesitation in saying that the whole series is one of rare 
excellence. 

We have examined with specia. jare the portions bearing upon Physical Geography 
aOil Historical Geography. It is not an easy task to combine thei-e with topical, stat- 
istical, and political geography in one book withoi^t making it cumbrous in size, and 
sacrificing unity a . simplicity of method. Yet the author of the book before us 
seems to have done tnis quite successfully. The author has succeeded in imparting, 
in a manner e isily comprehended and wnthout breaking the continuity of topics, a 
large amount of valuable information in regard to the climates, the causes that deter- 
mine them, and the vegetable productions of each country. 

In separate chapters, in connection with the geography of each country, its history 
is given, briefly yet clearly. The author has been very successful in this — a work of 
no small difficulty. 

The maps are clear in outline, accurate, and distinct. The illnstraticns deserve 
high commendation. They are well chosen as to subject, artistically well conceived, 
and beautifully executed. They are on the whole, we think, the finest we have seen 
in any school book. 

From tlie Catholic Review. 

"The workmanship on this book is in general admirable. We suspected at first that 
the copy sent us was an edition de luxe, so fine is the paper, so elegant is the type, 
and press work, and so beautifully colored are the maps. But we learn that the 
specimens are really inferior to the edition. As to the coloring of the maps, we feel 
bound to say, that such fine specimens of Xylofrraphic work, as they seem to us to be, 
have seldom been surpassed in this country. The only Geography with which we can 
just now cnm])are this portion of the work is from a leading New York school book 
house, and 0' Shea's work in this department is immeasurably superior." 



THE COIMPREHENSIVE GEOGRAPHIES. 17 

From tlie Catholic World. 

We hope that this series will become popular, as it deserves to be in Catholic Schools. 

From tlie Catliollc Record. 

This series of Geographies is one of great excellence. 

In the arrangement and order of topics, simplicity of the same, clearness and full- 
ness of treatment of them, in accuracy and other desiderata for school books, these 
Geographies are certainly deserving of high commendations. The maps are clear and 
distincL and the illustrations excellent, both as regards subjects and execution, some 
of which would grace an album or collection of prints for a parlor center table. 



From the Irish American. 

The want of a thoroughly genuine Cathohc Geography has long been felt in the 
schools, but has. in our opinion, been at last supplied by Mr. O'Shea. The maps 
are models of clearness, and contain, owing to a novel plan of the compiler, more 
correct topographical information than any book of the kind we have ever seen. 
The map questions are skillfiilly arranged, and accompanjang them is given all that 
is interesting and necessary of the physical and historical geography of each coiintry. 
In short the whole work is one of unusual excellence : in fact it is the best of the 
kind we have ever seen, and Mr. 0"Shca may well feel proud of the result of his labors. 



From the Catholic Standard. 

One of its great merits is its historical accounts of the countries and places which 
it describes. These have been prepared with excellent judgment. They are clear, 
simple in style, concise in language, sufficiently full of details to be interesting to the 
pupil, yet not so full as to weary his attention or overburden his memory. 

These historical accounts, too, are written in a Catholic spirit, so that the pupil 
receives a correct and true impression from the study of them of the connection of 
the Catholic religion with the advance of mankind in government, art, science, litera- 
ture, commerce and all that we comprehend in the word civilization. 

The "Comprehensive Geography'' has been well nr.med "Comprehensive." It 
certainly comprehends an immense amount of statistical, physical, political and his- 
torical information, so well arranged that it can be acquired by any pupU of average 
industry and intelligence. 

LIBERAL TERMS MADE FOR INTRODUCTION. 

P. O'SHEA, Publisher, 

37 Bakclay Street, New York. 



;% 



V,.'-* 






T:^?'" 



i^ 










